


Château de Boog

by EmmaLennyEddie



Category: Fanboy & Chum Chum (Cartoon)
Genre: Boog is a monster, Brain Damage, Captivity, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fanart, Finding Inner Voice, Graphic Violence, Hallucinations, Hearing Voices, Horror, Isolation, Kidnapping, Mental Breakdown, Psychological Trauma, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Starvation, Unplanned everything, challenging dialogue with no dialogue, no written dialogue, overcoming evil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 61,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaLennyEddie/pseuds/EmmaLennyEddie
Summary: It's quiet but for the rumble of an underground generator. The air is still, dusty like an antique chair and smelling of fresh paint. In the pitch-black darkness on a concrete floor, frenemies Fanboy and Yo lay unconscious, awkwardly sprawled out like animals ready for butcher.AN: I return nearly every day to add to, change, and improve chapters, so if something looks different, you'll know why.
Relationships: Fanboy/Yo (Fanboy & Chum Chum)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 23





	1. They Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, they wake up.

***WARNING* In case the tags are not clear, t** **his story is EXTREMELY dark. If you do NOT wish to be disturbed, turn back now, or forever hold your peace. This is NOT romanticizing violence or the torment of children and John Travolta’s table scraps is not a moral being.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the fictional characters. They all belong to the charming Eric Robles.**

_Chapter One: They Wake Up_

* * *

It’s quiet but for the rumble of an underground generator. The air is stale and dusty like an antique chair and smells of fresh paint. Fanboy and Yo lay unconscious in the pitch-black darkness, awkwardly sprawled out on the concrete like animals ready for butcher. The generator’s groan stirs Fanboy first. He rubs his bloodshot eye and calls out for his best friend, Chum Chum, expecting to be answered. Instead, he feels the slight breeze of a fist flying past his face. His voice has jolted awake Yo, a classmate of his, who’d struck blindly in fear. After the scare, they cautiously identify each other and call into the dark. A sharp tremor runs through them as they’re met with silence.

Where are they, is the first question that pops out of Yo’s mouth. Fanboy doesn’t know. He cautiously swipes at the stale air, invisible particles swirling around his fingers. Nothing. He kicks out with his long legs and touches the flat surface of a wall with the sole of his shoe. He taps against it experimentally. Okay. They’re in a room, they’re uninjured, and as far as they know, they’re alone.

Fanboy shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, his mind grappling for something appropriate to say. He is Galaxy Hills’s unofficial superhero-in-training and he must do what he can to make light of the situation. He cannot allow something _this_ _trivial_ to get to him. He straightens from the self-encouragement and mulls over his suppositions. Wondering if this another one of Yo’s tasteless pranks, he glares at her with suspicion, but she denies the accusation outright before he can even voice his surmise. Her transparent rebuff only strengthens his suspicion, and he begins to bombard her with absurd questions that no interrogator would call logical, and after a bit of back and forth, Fanboy concedes her innocence. Yo may be an incurable prankster, but this folly, whatever it is, is too grand to be orchestrated by her hand alone. Nonetheless, he promises that he’ll keep an eye on her. He can’t be too careful after this year’s Prank Day when she’d absolutely pummeled him with mean-spirited and physically damaging “gags”.

After shaking off Fanboy’s baseless accusation, Yo focuses strictly on the matter at hand. It’s easy, as it turns out, as there is little else to think about in the dark. It’s a stifling, otherworldly experience to be completely engulfed in it, unable to see even her hand before her face. If she’d been alone, she’d be petrified. Luckily, Fanboy’s presence is all she needs to summon the courage to explore. She gropes at the invisible floor with her hands, the surface too icy for prolonged contact. With a worried murmur, she scratches her chin and thinks hard in stalwart silence. Where are they? How have they come here? Why? 

Not one to be left ignored in such a state, Fanboy lightly slaps her cheeks. Startles out of her thoughts, she indignantly smacks his hand away, and his retort is a punch to the shoulder, to which she shoves him just as hard. These aggressive interactions pave the way for tension to grow impossibly thick, though it doesn’t come as a particular surprise. Fanboy and Yo have always had a rocky relationship. They’re stubborn, proud folks who clash over the silliest things. Yo has an obsessive crush on Fanboy’s best friend and sidekick, Chum Chum, and often tries to steal him. Yo can’t say she particularly _likes_ Fanboy, not in body nor mind, but she appreciates his devotion for her beloved Chum Chum and his courage to be a leader when things go awry. Still, he’s more of an acquaintance, a classmate, a fellow Galaxy Hills citizen at the very least. For instance, if he were to die, she probably wouldn’t go to his funeral, but she probably would show up if he were throwing a massive party. It’s that kind of “friendship zone.” At the _most_ , he’s like a distant, annoying older friend-in-law, and that’s generous on her part. He hasn’t exactly matured over the years, but boys mature slower, she was once told, and watching Fanboy and her other male classmates act like total buffoons cements her belief.

As for Fanboy, his feelings towards Yo have been conflicting as of late, as her mannerisms have been clashing in kind. Mostly, she’s innately cheerful but on dark days, she can be crazed and obsessive, especially when she interacts with poor little Chum Chum, who absolutely hates it when she nabs him for herself. On one hand, she’s a master manipulator, using her sweet tone and cute appearance to scam, but on the other hand, she can offer excellent support when asked and can appear genuinely concerned with others’ welfares. At the beginning of the school year, she’s combative, severely hurting him in pranks and fistfights, but after a spell, her aggressiveness begins to ebb and her obsession with Chum Chum settles, unveiling a calm, kind girl that Fanboy didn’t know existed. Rather than appreciating this personality shift and encouraging her good behavior, Fanboy is wary if not outright confused, and he’d be lying if he says he wasn’t always on edge around her.

This awkward (not-love) triangle sprouts a plant of strain among the three, predominantly between Fanboy and Yo, but they try to treat each other with _some_ respect to save face in front of adults, like their teacher, Mr. Hank Mufflin, or Fanboy’s guardian, Ozwald Harmonian. It’s no easy task, however, and despite the change in both attitudes and conditions, traces of rivalry cling to them like leeches. Even now, they begin to bicker, but the growl of the hidden generator reminds them of what’s more important than scoring points. Abandoning the trifle argument, they force out apologies to one another and agree that teamwork is essential to find a way out.

First things first is reaching back to the last thing they remember, a surefire way to scrounge for clues. Yo scrunches her eyes shut and searches the far corners of her mind, which are blurred and sparse. It is almost a pain to dive her conscious into the newly hollowed spaces, to come up with nothing but the faint memory of having breakfast: Man-Arctic Crunch cereal with milk. Fanboy rubs his temples, suffering the same loss. All he can remember is playing with Chum Chum at the local park. They’d flown down slides, sailed over monkey bars, and destroyed the seesaw. After that is naught but colorful meaningless blobs. His head hurts and his stomach is painfully tight. When he last ate is a mystery. Depending on how long he’s been laying here, it could’ve been days! He licks his lips, which he finds are dry and chapped. He could chug down a gallon jug of water if there was one handy. Time to get out and find one, he announces, without much confidence.

Well, Yo decides, they certainly need to find a door, and quick. A light switch, if anything. Then, they can run for the hills and inform everyone what has happened, whatever it is. Fanboy peers into the murky darkness and scrunches a little. He doesn’t want to venture into the unknown where anything could be waiting. What if, he protests, a monster is poised in the dark ready to gobble them up? Or a scary alien? Or a zombie? In truth, he’s already paranoid not because of his overactive imagination, but for the fact that he is already half-blind, his right eye completely missing. Being half-blind is bad enough, but this new, _full_ blindness, this never-ending blackness is horrible. He shudders, and Yo’s put a little more on edge as she too begins to wonder what could be waiting for them in the dark.

However, they eventually get on with what they need to do. What follows is a strenuous task, one that pumps their hearts full of fear and adrenaline because they have no idea of what they may come across: they carefully inch their way around the room and pat the walls, scattered folders shifting and crumpling beneath their shoes. They’re looking for a gap, a hint as to what’s going on, but the surfaces are as smooth and barren as the floor: free of all information. The only discovery they make is a dusty commode sitting in a corner when they meet at the junction. This room is tiny, about twelve by twelve feet. They can’t see a ceiling in the inky blackness, and it’s too high for even the likes of Fanboy to reach.

Stumped, they lean against one of the walls and slide down onto their haunches. A drop of water ‘plinks’ to the ground. Fanboy stares at his hands, silently willing for his powers to awaken. He’d bust them out in two seconds flat, even if that meant revealing his powers to Yo, but without his best friend right by his side, they’re useless. Solitude is truly a weakness. Even his glow-in-the-dark garments, which would have provided enough light, seem to be out of juice! He shivers, realizing just how vulnerable they are. More afraid than he has ever felt in his life, he rubs his forearms to hold back shivers. Yo buries her face in her knees to stifle a small cry, on the verge of a panic attack.

Just as all hope seems lost, they hear a click and see a dim flash of light. They blink the spots from their vision before snapping their heads to the source. In the wall across from them, the outline of a single door irradiates a tinted yellow. Now that the room is ample bright, they can just barely see each other’s contours. Practically tripping over their feet to rush for the exit, they mash their faces to the gaps but see nothing but blurred yellow. The seam between the wall and the door is so faint that they can hardly feel it, which would explain why they didn’t find it earlier. There’s no knob or handle, but there is a mail slot near the bottom. Curious, Fanboy pushes against the groove, causing it to swing back and forth with a faint squeak. They glance at each other knowingly. This could prove useful.

Then, the light disappears.

Yo peers through again, and like before, she sees nothing and nobody. Just an inky blackness that could rival the deepest of trenches. Despite that, she bursts with excitement and points out that someone must’ve turned the light on and off, and that they need to gain that “someone’s” attention. Nodding vigorously, Fanboy presses his face to the open slot. With a deep breath, they scream for help until their voices strain. Curiously, there’s no echo, leading them to suspect that the area on the other side of the door is small, maybe even smaller than the room they’re in, and that means there must be _another_ door. Yo groans. On the off-chance they get past this first door, what if they aren’t able to escape the _next_ room?

With no luck, Fanboy clears his dry throat and quotes, “If at first, you don’t succeed, try ramming at full speed!”, so they ram the door until their shoulders bruise. No luck. Yo takes a running start and unwisely slams her knee into it. There’s a small moment of quiet before she clutches her knee with a comedic shriek and hops in place. Fanboy tries kicking the door down, but his actions harbor the same result.

After rubbing the ache from his foot, Fanboy impulsively slides his left hand through the slot and gropes about with his fingers. Fearing his hand could be bitten off by a monster, Yo orders him to pull it back through, but he cockily waves her away. He’ll be the one to save them, thank you, he remarks. Yo growls but sits back and chews a fingernail, growing ever-more anxious when Fanboy pushes through up to his shoulder with an exaggerated grunt. He bends his spindly arm to feel for a latch, but there’s nothing but empty air and the cold surface of the other side of the door. Reaching straight out as far as he can, he thinks he MAY have felt the slight pressure of a plastic sheet, but nothing comes of it. He can’t reach far enough to grab it anyway. Frustrated, he groans and pulls his arm back through the slot, wrinkling his nose at the sawdust smell. Yo slumps disappointedly but doesn’t give up.

Again, they scour the area, poking and prodding at the walls and floor, searching meticulously for a blemish or a crack—anything they can use to escape, but they find nothing. Fanboy hits his fist against the wall while pressing his ear to it. The structure is rock solid, and would unlikely budge if kicked or hit long enough. Still, he tries, carefully kicking different areas of the walls and hoping to hear a hollow echo. Encouraged, Yo does the same, stomping her feet against different parts of the floor until she’s certain the entire perimeter is immovable.

Huffing to herself, Yo glances upward at the inky darkness and gets a spark of creativity. Quickly, she orders excitedly, give her four! Fanboy catches on and eagerly helps hoist her up. She balances carefully atop his shoulders, leaning against the wall for leverage as she gropes for a ceiling. Aha! She grins, feeling the rough orange peel ceiling texture scrape against her fingertips. Now all that’s missing is—! She reaches about and bumps right into the smooth metallic surface of a ceiling register. She drags her fumbling fingers over the bumpy grate, searching for a screw she can untwist, but her heart soon sinks. There are no screws, no nails, no fastening of any kind. It must have been attached via concrete. With a heavy sigh, Yo tells Fanboy to lower her. He groans, hoping Yo would have found something, and obeys, though, none too gently. Back to searching the walls and floors.

Bumping his leg against the commode, Fanboy gets an idea of his own. On the count of three, he and Yo yank the ceramic lid off its hinges. Armed and ready to ram, they charge at the door and smash the cap against it as hard as possible. The lid shatters to pieces on impact, littering tiny shards of glass all around them. Fanboy lets out a rather girly scream at the break and then grits his teeth to hold back a groan, his hands throbbing from the use of force. Yo shakes the ache from her palms and feels the unscathed spot where they hit the door. So much for that idea, she scoffs miserably.

Fanboy sniffs but chooses not to respond. He’s too busy shivering, the cold seeping into his bones like an unwanted parasite. Both he and Yo are adorning their typical summer flair. He is wearing his trademark green spandex unitard, violet cowl, cape, gloves, and black converse. Yo is wearing a yellow t-shirt, a green and pink plaited skirt, pink leggings, and yellow sneakers. Her froggy backpack is gone. Her flip-phone was in there, and now she has no way of calling the police for help.

They’re running out of options, and the repetitive failures fuel their anxiety, which in turn, steadily overwhelm their sanity. To cope, Fanboy hums famous jingles to himself and Yo plays with her hair. It’s soothing, but panic continues to linger within them like a keg of gunpowder just waiting for a match to light it.

Before his nerves get the better of him, Fanboy decides to take a time-out, carefully sweeping the debris away with his shoe before he sits crisscross. 

Yo releases a frustrated yell, causing Fanboy to jolt and snap at her to stop. Put out, she grits that if Fanboy helps her, that will be great. Apparently, he’s not in the mood to help, so Yo goes back to exploring on her own, kicking aside the rubble still scattered on the floor to make a path.

As she explores the walls, she gets on her tippy-toes and reaches high. She discovers a crumbling damp patch of paint, the cold wetness against her fingers catching her completely off-guard, and she screams, which frightens Fanboy out of his skin, and just like that, the keg explodes: he plugs his ringing ears and screeches at her to SHUT UP.

Though stunned by the volume, Yo ignores him and curiously smears the fresh paint between her thumb and forefinger while Fanboy rocks back and forth on his heels. This situation is affecting him more than he would like to admit, amplifying his stress, and dizzying his mind...

Yo wipes her hand on one of the folders on the floor and half-heartedly kicks at the concrete wall, leaving a scuff she’s unable to see. She crosses her arms and leans her head back, trying to think of another solution, but can’t.

There’s no way out. They are hopelessly trapped.

Unless?

A dark thought pops in her head as she eyes her trembling classmate. It’s unlikely they’re dead, but she entertains the idea aloud, at which Fanboy hastily shakes his head and asks if they even deserve to go to H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks. 

Yo concedes his point and adds that this mightn’t be Hell. After all, what would Hell be without fire and brimstone? Perhaps they’re in purgatory. A sort of limbo. These inopportune ventures don’t engage him in the way she thought it would, only nurtures his panic until he’s whimpering. Recognizing her error, Yo quickly apologizes, but Fanboy’s no gobemouche. His mind screams, his body shakes, and his heart beats like a hammer. He pictures a grievous Chum Chum perching atop the roof of the Fanlair waiting for his return for years until he gives up and leaves to be isolated forever. The thought makes him want to vomit, and coupled with the stifling room, it proves too much to bear. He convulses rapidly, swallowing back bile as his judgment lapses. He jumps to his feet and beats at the door with his gloved fists, landing strike after strike with emphatic repetition. 

Appalled, Yo guiltily cowers as his assault mounts in intensity. Using the last bit of his strength, Fanboy ramps his head against the door’s solid surface, which hardly vibrates at the blunt force.

Yo yelps in dismay as he staggers back onto his rump, stunned, but conscious. Yo holds a hand over her chest and tries to mellow out her breathing. A blow like that could have-- _should_ have seriously injured Fanboy, but he has an extra-thick skull, now an attribute she’s grateful for rather than annoyed by, and by the looks of it, he won’t be dying in her arms anytime soon. She may not admire him, but she wishes death upon no one. At the least, she’s thankful for the conniption’s end and rests on the chalky ground beside Fanboy. Fanboy blinks slowly, sucking in a sharp breath before his eyes clear. He shakes his head, looking back between her general direction and the door before bursting into tears. 

Appeased by his return, Yo carefully puts a hand on his bony shoulder. She can’t help but gravitate toward the only other person with her, even if that person isn’t her favorite. He’s all she has, and if they’re going to make it out, they’ll need to work together. 

Fanboy flinches at the contact and tears away. Even now, he refuses to trust her at his darkest hour, be his own stubbornness or genuine wariness. Yo pulls back and stiffens in case he rises to strike her, but he eventually relaxes and slumps forward to rest his head in his hands. His energy is zapped, but even now, Yo can feel the tension buzzing from where she sits. She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, partly as a gesture of mutuality, of understanding, and partly just to show that she can, but now the gravity of their situation has become startlingly real. Anything there was to fight, to complain, and to argue about is irrelevant. 

After a moment of hush, Yo renounces her ‘afterlife idea,’ to which Fanboy’s relieved. It’s evident he does NOT want to entertain the thought of dying unless it’s due to come epic battle. Yo nods, mentally taking note of that. She thinks that Fanboy is more sensitive than she thought, but then he dramatically insinuates that maybe they’re part of a sinister experiment and have been quarantined. Maybe they have a dangerous disease! Welp.

Bothered by the idea, Yo takes extra time to point out that labs are pristine and white, unlike this shabby dump of a chamber, and asks him to please refrain from making such wild claims. Fanboy glares at her blunt hypocrisy and refuses to scrap his idea. Well then, he offers, social experiment. It’s far more exciting than what she could come up with, anyway, he thinks.

Amid the stewing silence, a wicked thought enters Yo’s head, one that she has pushed away before it can fully form. Now that their whimsical ideas have been declared nonvalid, the disturbing idea inhabits her subconscious.

_Kidnapped._

Fanboy frowns, still very much in love with his laboratory theory, but open-minded enough to entertain her supposing. Well, he thinks, as far as he can remember, which he doesn’t, they haven’t come here on their own accord. Someone must have brought them here, turned on that light, and locked the door.

Kidnapped. Fanboy can hardly believe it. He wants to confront this captor of theirs and bring him or her to justice. Give them what for! But Yo reminds him that whoever brought them here must be sturdy. At least, sturdy enough to take down both of them and set this all up. If they’re going to get out of here, they need to be smart and wait for rescue.

Fanboy frowns, as he would much prefer to break out of here himself, but ultimately concedes. Having exhausted all other options, he and Yo swallow down their fears and wait for rescue.

A sharp pulse of pain causes Fanboy to wince. It’s been mollified this entire time, perhaps by his adrenaline and shock. He absently rubs the swollen lump on the back of his head. Yo does the same. Perhaps the loss of memory is no accident.

…

Fanboy and Yo rouse yet again from a troubled sleep. Fanboy jolts upward with a gasp and cries out for Chum Chum, having momentarily forgotten their situation. He rests a hand over his heaving chest and tries to calm down. He’s unsure as to how long he’s been sleeping, but if the crick in his neck and the ache in his back is anything to go by, it’s been more than a few hours. He groans and stretches, wincing when the pain flares in his back. He feels around for Yo, sighing in relief as he finds the hem of her sleeve. Despite his intense dislike for Yo, he’s happy he isn’t facing this alone. Oh, if only this had been a nightmare, he grumbles, ultimately deciding to go back to sleep. He’ll need his rest if he’s ever going to break them out of here.

Falling back under is more difficult than they’d thought. The generator continues to spurt its awful song as if to spite them, and the biting cold causes them to shiver involuntarily. Fanboy groans and wraps his cape tight around his head, but the buzzing in his skull is inescapable. He shivers, rubbing his arms to get some warmth back into them. He briefly considers snuggling up to Yo to conserve body heat, but his pride wins out. He’d rather freeze than willingly surrender his dignity.

Yo yawns. She has propped herself up against the wall, legs bunched up to conserve heat, but the position has left her body achy and sore. She too nearly forgets what has happened, and timidly calls for Fanboy until he answers. She shivers, the gelid air attacking her skin. Dead tired, Yo settles herself back into her position and screws her eyes shut.

However, with the roar of the generator, sleep is useless, so she sits up and stretches her arms. What a lonely, dreamless sleep. Despite the cold air of the room, her skin is peaky with sweat. She brushes her fingers against the bangs falling over her brows and touches the beads of moisture there. Thirstily, she licks the salty sweat from her fingers. 

It has been over two days, she thinks, too long to go without food and good drinking water. They have been tempted to drink the water sitting in that commode because of their thirst, but stubbornly hold back until they fear death. It’s a mortifying affair that Yo would rather forget.

She rubs her baggy eyes and lets out another heaving yawn. Deprived of everything, sleep is a rare and passing gift, one that Yo, until now, has taken for granted. She scoffs at herself for have wanted to stay up late on school nights and rise at dawn to watch cartoons. Now, she’d give all the money in her kitty-bank to rest more than a meager twenty minutes at a time. She blinks at nothing and squeezes her eyes shut, head fuzzy and pounding as she shifts her freezing rump.

It’ll be a miracle to find comfort on this hard, cold floor. Supply Fanboy’s ridiculously loud bruxism and Yo doesn’t think she’ll ever sleep. The darkness is another component she doubts she’ll ever grow used to, though not of the dark itself, but what is IN the dark. Fanboy’s paranoid words do little to ease her nervousness. Bored, she regards her sweaty pigtails, undoes the bands, and ruffles her mane to cool off. How strange, she thinks, is it to be both hot and cold at the same time. Her best guess is it might be attributed to a lack of sleep.

As miserable as this place is, Yo’s secretly appreciative of Fanboy’s company, however antipathetic. He is a human nightlight, offering security just by being present, and for that, she’s grateful. She just won’t admit it.

A noise reverberates from somewhere behind the walls. She strains her ears. It sounds like the heavy thumps made by footsteps. She hears it again. Even while encased in a windowless room, Yo’s sure as to what she’s hearing. Heart pounding with excitement, she shakes Fanboy and tells him the good news. At first, he doesn’t believe her (she has a cacoethes to prank at inopportune times), but now there’s no mistaking it—the sound is that of a footstep’s, and it’s close. 

Yo scrambles to her feet and heads for the door. Fanboy follows suit, unusually cautious without his best friend to back him up. He reasons that the person causing the footsteps could be their captor, but Yo is optimistic it could be someone to rescue them.

The noise reverberates again. It’s louder now. Yo sucks in a breath and grins in Fanboy’s direction despite his inability to see it. It’s so close! Pressing her ear against the solid door, she can actually feel the vibrations.

Then, joyous days—the concrete door opens and gentle yellow light floods the room! The enfeebled children squint and shield their eyes. A burst of relief explodes within them when they see a familiar man’s silhouette appear in the doorway.

It’s _Boog!_

Yo squeals and pumps her fists while Fanboy folds his hands and thanks God. Boog, the notorious bully-now-savior, has come to their rescue! He even has plates of food, commodities that they don’t even question; they just grab what they can.

Boog chuckles and pats their heads in an uncharacteristically paternal manner, urging them to slow down. They don’t listen. Instead, they cram their bodies with nourishment and savor every crumb. It is a rather pitiful meal, made up of club crackers, a water bottle, and bruised apple slices, but to the children, it’s a feast fit for royals. Fed and hydrated, they lick their fingers as the remainder of their dread ebbs away. 

Once the shock of the visit wears off, Fanboy and Yo realize that they can see each other in the yellow light. They make for a sorry sight, disheveled and visibly exhausted, but as off-putting as they look, it could be worse. They turn to their savior with tears glittering in their eyes.

Boog, oh joyous days, Fanboy shouts, clutching the man’s red-white-and-blue wristband. They shower the young man with gratitude, hugging his waist and singing praises from hearts of genuine appreciation. Boog’s large arms hug them back, providing rare security instead of the hurt he’s known for dishing out. Pulling back, Fanboy wipes his eyes and asks the nineteen-year-old where they are and how he found them. Boog smiles faintly, his expression unclear. His large hands, which pat the tops of their heads, tighten to hold them in place. The children are caught off guard as he speaks. 

His voice is low, unnaturally gentle. What he tells them is off-putting at best and terrifying at the worst.

An uneasy reticence fills the room. All the comfort of light and nutrition disappears when Fanboy and Yo come to understand this chilling vicissitude. Thinking quickly, they run for the open door, but Boog shoves them back onto their rumps. They scream and scramble to their feet, but a moment too late. The door, which turns out, is cumbersome, slams shut behind Boog. Once again, they are shrouded in darkness.

After taking a moment to apprehend what has just happened, the children pound and kick the door with all their vigor, pleading for Boog to let them out. They strike so hard their fists bruise and Fanboy’s certain he’s broken a toe or two with all that violent kicking. They’re seething, falling down to peer through the mail-slot and watching Boog’s blurry figure walking away, opening something, and disappearing.

They wait in anxious silence, shuddering raggedly, but Boog does not reappear.

Yo releases a furious scream and elbows the door while Fanboy sinks to his knees, his forehead pressed against its surface. He stares hard at nothing, pupils like pinpricks as he tries to connect the dots. Yo had been right after all. He didn’t want to believe such a thing could happen. They’re being held against their will, and by Boog, of all people!

Why? Fanboy thunks his forehead against the door. WHY?

The faint light disappears, and pitch-black swallows them up. Mentally and physically exhausted, rage drains and leaves terror. The children sit jointly with their backs against the wall, too confused and shocked to think straight, to figure out why Boog has gone bananas. Yo was right, Fanboy finally admits, shaking his head. Yo was right.

Yo whimpers, wishing for once that she hadn’t been. When Boog doesn’t reappear for another two hours, they cry, wishing for the light to greet them again.

\---

They are alone for three more days. Hunger and dehydration deaden their spirits, and their clashing dispositions lead to fights. Plagued with severe anxiety and frustration, they shun each other as best they can in the tiny room, huddling in their corners antithesis of each other. Divided, they shiver in the cold, especially rail-thin Fanboy, whose costume offers no padding. Yo regards his discomfort, and her tender nature outweighs her anger.

Flushing abashedly, she offers him her warmth. After a few minutes of stalwart silence, he accepts her bid. Unitedly they crawl back into a new junction to huddle like emperor penguins preparing for a snowstorm, and finally, Fanboy’s shivering stops. They would be somewhat embarrassed by their vicinity under normal circumstances, but now they’ve agreed that the quarrels are pointless. They even promise to get along better—at least until help arrives.

Cutting through their banter is a sharp clang, like the sound of striking metal pipes. It shocks them out of their moment and back into a haze of fear. Together, they watch the door just in case the man chooses to return.

He doesn’t, for better or for worse, and they finally relax their holds on one another. Fanboy feels his stomach growl, impatient for sustenance. He groans. Neither of them has gone this long without the comfort of a good meal. Fanboy is a twig, and as Chum Chum’s caretaker, often divides his portion to gift the younger one in trying times, but he has never been completely deprived of food for more than a day or two. He shivers, thinking back to the nights he’d lay in bed clutching his growling stomach, unable to sleep comfortably for the emptiness. That was heaven compared to this, a mild inconvenience that pales in comparison to this misfortune.

Yo has had a fruitful upbringing, having always been supplied an appropriate amount of sustenance. Perhaps, even a generous amount, Fanboy thinks enviously, eyeing his slender form and then at her well-rounded figure. She still has a hefty amount of baby fat on her, making her appear quite well-fed, but Fanboy decides to keep his observations to himself in a rare exhibition of common sense. Instead, in the most impassive tone he can muster, he swallows his pride and thanks her for keeping him warm. Her hold is the only thing keeping him from succumbing to the cold completely, and for that, he can’t pretend he isn’t grateful.

Surprised, Yo considers her classmate for a moment before nodding and resting her head against his. Fanboy waits, thinking she may not have heard him before she points out that he would’ve done the same. There’s no need to thank her. At that, his face warms and he mumbles something under his breath. Yo grins but says nothing. Ordinarily, she would love to tease him, but she feels it inappropriate for Boog’s actions. Instead, she focuses her energy on their captor and curses his name. Boog, she growls aloud. She hates him. She always has. Fanboy growls in agreement, though he secretly hopes the man will come back to set them free, or at the very least, give them more food.

Out of all the people in the world, Boog is the last they would have expected to be behind this. Boog: a sleazy, quarter-stealing, bop-happy bully, a lazy Frosty Mart employee who would rather play his precious Chimp-Chomp machine in the corner hour after hour and provide insults and beatings instead of proper customer service. Fanboy, Chum Chum, Yo, and the rest of Galaxy Hills’ residents have walked into the convenience store many-a-time expecting terrible service, and praying to be ignored than to be victimized by his giant fists. He was far from the town-favorite and nobody really was fond of him.

Fanboy scratches his chin, recalling his previous interactions with Boog and wondering if any clues hinted at this. Well, other than the bubble incident where he’d trapped Fanboy and Chum Chum in the Frosty Mart after hours, there was nothing specific. Fanboy shivered, picturing Boog’s maniacal expression when he’d thought he’d gotten the best of the duo before they’d slipped from his grasp. Fanboy recalls the look in Boog’s eyes, the eerie glaze. Then, he shakes his head, a small part of him refusing to accept the possibility of Boog being a monster.

Certainly, Boog is awful, but he hasn’t shown interest in anyone or anything outside of Chimp Chomp. Not in his job, not in his poor coworker, Lenny. Not in the kids, other than using them for punching-bags. Certainly not in a kidnapping! Knowing this, it’s a mystery as to why and what he’s doing this for. Tormented by their own imaginations, Fanboy and Yo horrified by the possibilities. Then again… Surely, this is all a really horrible prank. He’ll let them go. He will. He’ll have to, Fanboy says. Yo agrees. They have school and friends to get back to, after all. At the very least, he’ll come back.

If he doesn’t come back, they could be in big trouble.

\---

Fortunately, they are correct about Boog returning, but it’s belated. Three days after Boog makes his first appearance, the captives have lost their strength. Their tongues are dry and thick, and their empty bellies are twisted with hunger. Their only saving grace from dehydration is the corner’s commode, but they’re loath to accept it save for when the headaches begin. Instead of breaking down the walls as Fanboy originally planned, as their muscles have withered over time and said walls are too strong anyway, they put their minds to work. Despite their fatigue and stress interfering with rational thought, they manage to devise an acceptable escape plan. Acceptable does not promise foolproof, but its potential will suffice for what the little they have to work with.

Again and again, they go over the plan and situate themselves into the desired positions, for at any moment, Boog could return. He should not be able to catch them off guard if they stand guard at all times. Boog won’t save them; they’ll need to save themselves.

Just when they’re about to believe Boog will never return, the tell-tale light illuminates the door. It’s a heart-stopping moment, one that snaps Fanboy and Yo out of their fatigue. They sprint to stand on either side of the door, shaky with hunger and anticipation. Boog is strong, yes, but lacks in speed; they need to be quick and make for an exit before he stops them.

As soon as Boog pulls the door open, they make a dash for it. Alarmed, Boog snatches Yo by one of her greasy pigtails before she can even make it past him. She screams as loud as she can, hoping that this will make Boog stumble and grant Fanboy a better opportunity to escape. Boog does stutter, but he barely manages to snatch Fanboy by the cape while Yo fights to pull away.

Shaken by their actions and fearful that Yo’s screams could be heard, Boog tucks them against him with one arm and slams the door shut. He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath of relief before turning back to the wiggling, screaming bodies in his arm. That was a close one. Bothered, he dangles them by the scruffs on each hand, hoisting them up to eye-level and out at arm’s length. It’s amusing to watch them switch between fury and terror as they fight for their freedom. Boog grins suddenly and lets out a haughty, even gleeful guffaw as they punch and kick at him. It’s an awful sound, his laugh, putting fear into the hearts of his captives. It’s almost as scary as the glint in his eyes, the joyous glimmer that promises pain.

Soon, it becomes clear that Boog doesn’t plan to put them down and end this humiliating display until they relax. Their proud and stubborn nature prove for a long wait, and Boog is equally stubborn. He pins them up against the wall for support to give his arms a break, wearing the smuggest expression as he waits for them to give up.

The expression fuels the captives’ energy for just a while longer, but eventually, they lose the standoff, going slack in Boog’s grip as he lowers them to the ground where they collapse in a sorry heap. Swallowing in peals of breathy sobs, they prop themselves up on their aching, jelly-like arms. Wholly fatigued, Fanboy sees stars, and Yo’s head pounds like crazy. Never before have they felt this weak, this hopeless compared to a man so strong and intimidating. Fanboy lowers his head to hide his tears, wishing he could curl up under a rock and disappear.

So much for the escape plan, mumbles Yo, and Fanboy feels anger flare up within him. Before he can snap at his classmate, however, he feels a stab of pain in his forehead. Great. Another headache. He briefly considers asking Boog for water but keeps quiet in the end.

Not unlike when he first emerged, Boog pats the top of their skulls and gloats his “victory”. His touch sends a jolt of panic down their spines, like a cold stone pressing against them. Yo jerks her head and wriggles away to hide in a corner. Boog’s grin doesn’t fade, but something in his eyes loses its spark, like an ocean dulling to a murky pond, and suddenly he looks very far away.

Fanboy’s bottom lip trembles as he struggles not to cry. Hoping to draw some compassion from the man, Fanboy, quietly and sadly, asks to see Chum Chum again, to please let them go. Boog’s smile fades, and his peepers focus. Hoping to have appealed to Boog’s better nature, Fanboy holds his breath. They have a long history, after all. He has known Boog ever since he’d first walked into the Frosty Mart at age six. He attempts a small smile in remembrance. Boog had been nice then, helpful even, and sociable. Fanboy misses the kind Boog almost as much as he misses the bully Boog. The Boog who didn’t kidnap people. The Boog who didn’t treat them like…things.

Doesn’t Boog remember, asks Fanboy probing his kidnapper for any glimpse of humanity, how nice Boog used to be? Remember how he would guide the small children to the Frosty Freezy Freeze machine? Remember how respectful and helpful he was to Lenny? If there is any humanity in Boog, it’s hidden in the deep dark tresses of his head and needs to be drawn out. Fanboy hopes memories of old will do that, like a fishing pole reeling in a trench-bass. Boog’s brows knit together, his face unreadable as his eyes dart down to his large hand holding Fanboy still. Holding his breath, Fanboy thinks he may have spotted concern, or maybe even a hint of regret. The moment passes, unfortunately, and Boog doesn’t budge. Huffing distractedly, he stares at a random spot in the room and vacates. 

Too tired to fight, Fanboy lets the tears spill; there’s no use in suppressing his frustrations. In fact, crying may have invoked Boog as a man of power, a bit of patience. Fanboy falls back on his haunches and stares unseeingly into the dark void of a ceiling, sobbing. He just doesn’t understand! He knows Boog is an unpleasant character, but this is a whole ‘nother level of wicked. Never in a million years could have Fanboy expected to be in this position. Never in a million years had he expected Boog to stoop to this level of villainy.

Sensing the coast is clear, Yo scrambles to Fanboy and clutches him protectively. Usually, she’d make space, but she has never seen her classmate like this: feeble, drained, and hysterically sobbing. The maternal instinct within her blooms, and it’s all she can do to hold back from nuzzling his blotchy, tear-stained face and whisper her sympathies. Thankfully, Fanboy seems to appreciate the slight embrace and returns it, but not before wiping away his tears and insisting that he wasn’t just crying.

Yo sympathetically shakes her head. It’s okay to cry, she insists. They have every right to, and if he’s embarrassed, she doesn’t care if he cries. Fanboy sort of slumps in her hold, letting her soothing whispers envelop his mind. Part of him is still absolutely repulsed by Yo and suspects her, but the rest of him is too tired to care. Let her talk. Let her. What does he have to lose? Boog is holding them hostage; what harm could Yo do? How could things worsen?

Just as Fanboy’s beginning to calm down, a horrible thought creeps into his mind, and he gasps. Yo feels him tense under her hands and loosens her grip as he begins to ramble. What if they aren’t the only ones? What if this is just the beginning and Boog is trying to add more people to the room? What if—? Fanboy chokes, clutching at his face. What if Boog brings back Chum Chum and hurts him too?

To this, Yo shakes her head, though she cannot stifle the anxiety in her heart. She takes a deep breath and tries to reason. Boog can be outmatched, maybe not by two, but by three. He isn’t stupid enough to bring in a third party, another member who would help them, lest his own captives swarm him. It was risky to bring them here anyway. It’s unlikely he will try again. At least, that is what she hopes and prays. Trust her, she affirms, that Boog will never bring Chum Chum here.

Fanboy considers her words but ultimately the traces of rivalry come back to haunt him. He demands with authority for her to stop sugar-coating their situation. Be realistic. No more theories, no more games, no more manipulation. Yo pulls back, surprised at his reaction, then angry. She is just trying to help, she protests. And he’s a hypocrite, she reminds him, for condemning theories when he too was making them. Remember the “deadly disease” theory? Quarantine?

Fanboy snarls suddenly, realizing she’s right but too proud yet to admit it. Without another word, he tears away from her and plants himself before the door, pretending to prepare himself for Boog’s next visit.

Yo’s nostrils flare. Fine, she shouts, clenching her fists at his sides. Be like that! With a muffled sob, she curls up in the opposite end of the room. The nerve of her classmate, behaving the way he is. She has a mind to ignore him, and for a while, she just sits there in defiance, sniffling. It’s only when Fanboy’s own crying begins to wane that she opens one eye. Beckoning her is the faint glowing outline of the door, Fanboy’s contours just barely visible. He’s cross-legged and silent, his back to her. His form jolts as he sniffs and sometimes a gloved hand will rise to wipe his eyes and nose before dropping back down into his lap. Yo lifts her chin determined to remain where she is, but the glow is too mesmerizing to ignore for long.

After stewing for goodness knows how long, Yo reluctantly picks herself up and drags her feet towards the door. The trek feels longer than expected, her legs aching and cold, and all the while, she debates whether or not she should join her…cellmate. She shivers, and finally takes a seat beside him.

Fanboy says nothing, but Yo can detect a hint of relief in his relaxing posture. She knows the feeling.

After a few hours, Yo brings up the obvious: they need to strategize, think of a new way to escape. If they don’t, there’s no telling how long Boog will keep them here for. He isn’t at all the person they thought he was and attests to a greater adversary than a typical bully. Without security cameras in place to keep the guy in check (which never worked anyway), there’s nothing holding him back from wielding the worst types of pain. For all they know, he could…actually kill them.

The silence that follows her assertion is long and awful. Fanboy wraps his arms tighter around himself, his stomach queasy at the thought of someone he has known since he was six is capable of murder. Then again, is Boog truly capable? Yo admits she isn’t certain, but if Boog delights in beating them all in broad daylight, there’s no telling what he could do to them in secret. She says all this with trying confidence but cannot erase the waver in her high-pitched voice. She has seen those horrifying news articles about children who’ve been kidnapped and killed. Sometimes by strangers, sometimes by friends, enemies, or even family members. Yo shivers, her bottom lip trembling as she considers the possibilities. What if they become like one of those poor kids, she asks, found dead and rotting by a riverbed?

Fanboy hasn’t an answer. He stares down at his shoes, guilt flooding his system. If only he had his powers back… He’d bust them out in a matter of seconds, and beat Boog black and blue for good measure. However, in order for his powers to activate for use, Chum Chum must be within about twenty feet. Otherwise, his powers are all but useless. _He_ is useless… He braves a glance at Yo, wondering if he should tell her, but decides against it. There’s no use in revealing powers he can’t use. Besides, revealing himself would more likely than not worsen their situation. If possible, he isn’t certain. He shakes his head, shuddering. Just thinking about it all makes him feel sick. Sick…

Wait—Fanboy lights up suddenly, the bulb above his head flashing for a split second before going out. He jumps to his feet. Of course! It’s so obvious! Why didn’t he think of it sooner? Yo gapes at him. What? Think of what sooner? Fanboy smiles at her, and then knocks on the side of his skull.

He’s got a plan.

\---

Boog whistles cheerfully as he enters the room, smoothly and quickly. He’s been extra careful to lock the backup door behind him, just in case they do manage to get past him. He grimaces. He is going to try his hardest to make sure that _never_ happens again. He clenches his free fist and smiles, comfortably prepared to use it when need be. In fact, he’s rather looking forward to that moment. His cheerful demeanor drops, however, (as does the glass plate of food in his hands) when he comprehends the prospect before him.

On his knees, Fanboy is sniffling, tears running down his face as he hovers over Yo’s still form, which is curled up into a ball. Boog’s gasps, prompting Fanboy to glare with visible repugnance. He didn’t have to hit her so hard, Fanboy spits. He’s seething. Boog feels his stomach drop as he absorbs it all. _Had_ he hit her too hard? What exactly is Fanboy entailing?

Boog curses and slams the door behind him. The desperation in his face is palpable, Fanboy notes as he’s carelessly knocked aside. Boog kneels over Yo’s body, pressing one hand against her forehead and shaking her shoulder with the other. He notices, quite clearly, that the girl is making an effort to keep her eyes closed, her mouth a thin line as she winces under his touch. She seems fine, by Boog’s standards. Where’s the fire? Even Fanboy has stopped crying… Confused, Boog looks up before pain explodes in his face and he knows no more.

Fanboy teeters back, rubbing the now aching flat of his skull. Once he gains full cognizance, he gasps at the giant body of his captor lying face down on the floor before him. He—He did it! He actually did it! They have a chance to get out! However, his joy is cut short when he realizes that Yo is quite stuck, her torso trapped beneath the heavy form. She gurgles breathlessly, straining under the weight. With a surprised squeak, Fanboy quickly pulls her out from under the man.

Gulping in peals of breath, Yo staggers to her feet, her heart thudding like crazy. She hasn’t a moment to process before Fanboy shakes her by the shoulders. Go, go, go! Fanboy whisper-screams as they sprint for the exit. A rush of anxiety floods Yo’s system as she stumbles past Boog’s unconscious form and joins the superfan to shove at the barrier standing between them and freedom.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! They try their hardest, use all their strength to move it, but it isn’t budging. Fanboy’s powerful shoves become unfocused as his panic mounts, as does Yo’s as she grabs at her hair. Hurry, hurry, hurry! Yo hops in place, whipping her head back and forth between Fanboy and Boog. They need to hurry! There’s no telling how long Boog will be out. Fanboy’s painfully aware of this; he hooks his fingers into the door slot and pulls with all his might. Yo tries to help by grabbing his waist and pulling in kind, though after a while, Fanboy’s certain his arms will tear out of their sockets before this door ever opens.

Releasing Fanboy, Yo screams into the open slot for help, for someone, anyone, to _please_ hear her. Fanboy joins in, uncaring if the noise will rouse their captor, but it’s no use anyway. Nobody comes.

Distress skyrocketing, Fanboy screams, beating his fist against the door like a drum, each strike harder than the last until he’s certain his hands are close to breaking. Open already, he roars! Open! Then, he’s to face the worst possible conclusion to have occurred as a result of this plan, for Boog has begun to stir. Yo screams without thinking, clamping a hand over her mouth. They panic ever-more and scramble aimlessly to avoid his line of sight. Slowly, Boog lifts his head, blinking unfocused. Fanboy swallows, eyeing the visible bruise forming on the man’s forehead. He’s gonna get bopped for that one.

Yo contemplates kicking Boog while he’s down, but cannot summon the courage to have a go before Boog pulls himself back up on his feet. His blue eyes are glazed and unfocused. A giant fist rises and touches the tender portion of his forehead, which is turning blue-green. She winces, glancing at Fanboy’s petrified face and wondering what sort of revenge Boog, having evidently suffered from Fanboy’s actions, will have in store for him.

Boog himself is in shock, having begun to grow suspicious just a moment before Fanboy head-butted him. Propped against one of the walls for support, Boog tries to focus and figure out what to do. When the last of his dizziness melts away, anger gladly fills the void, and Boog whirls around to focus it on Fanboy.

With a furious roar, Boog launches forward, his fists fused together to unleash his ultimate weapon: the H-Bop. Notorious in Galaxy Hills, this kind of bopping power has been banned outright ever since the bubble incident. But this is Boog’s domain, Fanboy realizes with a pitiful whimper as the fists draw near. Anything goes.

_BOP_

Yo winces as the full force of Boog’s clout sends Fanboy crashing painfully into the wall. There’s a sharp CRACK of bone meeting cement, and then there’s an eerie silence as Fanboy pratfalls unconscious.

Yo covers her mouth with both hands, releasing an involuntary cry and trembling with fear. She cannot allow herself to believe this could actually be happening and is not a nightmare, and watching Fanboy’s slumped figure is all the more surreal as Boog whoops and cheers like a madman. Yo covers her ears and presses up against the wall opposite of Fanboy. She can’t bear to witness Boog’s glowing smile nor listen to his delighted crows. She can’t believe it. She just can’t, and yet a part of her is unsurprised that Boog is _proud_ of himself. Any man who publicly lines up children and beats them to the rhythm of Beethoven is bound to lay claim to something much eviler in secret, but _still!_

WHY? She explodes, her knees giving out. Of course, by now she knows why, but it’s too unreal to accept as truth.

Boog smirks faintly at the other captive and cracks his bloody knuckles anew. Instead of answering, he sizes her up like a cat observing its prey before pouncing. Well, it IS a hobby of his, he teases. Something he excels at other than playing Chimp Chomp. Yo shivers, tears leaking down her face. She feels like a bug under that stare, a bug that’s soon to be squashed.

Please, she tries to beg, holding her arms over her face like a shield, but she may as well have been pleading with a wall. Boog turns completely to face her. The poor girl swallows and crabwalks back until she bumps against the wall. Boog takes great enjoyment in watching her cower and takes a daunting step forward.

No, Yo squeaks, pleading with all her valor. She makes her eyes as big and glittery as possible, hoping to invoke some pity, but to no avail. Boog is persistent. Please, no, she begs again!

Sporting that horrible grin, Boog takes another step. Then, another. Then, another. And another. All the while, he revels in her beseeching cries and convulsing-with-fear body, both of which grow worse as he draws nearer and nearer. When he comes to a stop to loom, Yo is an exhausted, sobbing mess. She’s too terrified even to run, which Boog takes great pleasure in as well, judging by his toothy grin. All she can do is curl up into a tiny ball, an innate way to illustrate that she is no threat and he needn’t hurt her. Please, she brokenly chants. Please, please, please, please… Let them go, let them go… Please, let them go. They’ll do anything!

Boog rubs his chiseled chin, surprised and interested by the pleading. Anything? He repeats this aloud to himself, pretending to ponder over it. Emboldened, Yo peeks out from under her arm, a naïve glimmer of hope shining in her eyes. Yes, anything! She’ll do anything, just please let them go! Deciding to taunt the poor girl, Boog makes a show of pretending to mull over it, huffing and sighing and pacing back and forth before finally coming to a stop.

Pointing to the plate of food he’d dropped earlier, Boog orders her to clean it up. Yo obeys without a second thought, scrambling on all fours to the glass plate, which is miraculously intact, and discarded food items. As she gathers everything up, her eyes flicker over to Fanboy’s unconscious body, and she swallows hard, praying that he’ll wake up soon. After she’s finished (sneaking in a few bites she hopes will go unnoticed), she shakily hands the plate of food to Boog, head down and quiet.

She doesn’t expect a “thank you” or a “good job”, but some sort of reaction would rather suffice than the unusual silence. Boog is boisterously loud; he should have said or done something by now.

Yo’s last bout of hope sparks the courage needed to lift her head. Her heart freezes. Boog’s face is blank but his eyes are glinting with madness. Worse yet, his arms are raised high above his head. Yo has at least a moment to process and leap out of the way before he brings his arms down and smashes the plate right atop Fanboy’s crown. The impact draws little reaction from Fanboy other than a slight shudder as his body slumps forward to rest face down on the concrete floor, now riddled with broken glass.

It’s too much. Yo becomes hysterical, shrieking at the top of her lungs as she stumbles aimlessly about the room with her arms holding her stomach. She can’t take this anymore. She can’t. She needs to get out. PLEASE, let her go! Boog watches her with about as much emotion as one would have inspecting an ant walking in circles. He then lets out a giant yawn, stretching his giant muscles and cracking his back.

Well, he announces causally, it’s time to hit the hay. Pretty late out tonight and he has to get up early for work. He pauses, then guffaws loudly, though it’s no match for Yo’s cries, and no matter how much she pleads, he’s out the door with a cheerful wave goodbye. As the door shuts in her face, Yo clutches her hair, hyperventilating as she paces the room, stopping every once in a while to kick away a piece of glass. Around and around she goes, growing more and more mentally exhausted.

This can’t be happening, she thinks faintly. It’s a bad dream. It’s all a really bad dream. She’s not trapped in a room. She’s at home right now, in bed, her kitty curled up beside her. With an uneven sigh, Yo slumps down against Fanboy, fading fast. It’s all a bad dream. She’ll wake up in a moment or two and forget any of this had ever happened.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, tell me what I can do to improve this chapter and/or if you liked it or not. Thank you!


	2. In a Mess of

**Author's Note: I've gotten some feedback concerning the scene with Fanboy and Yo in the bathtub. Remember that neither of them is nude, are not partaking in any sexual acts, and cannot see each other in pitch-black darkness anyway. Also mind: nudity in art is not inherently vulgar, as there is a profound difference between nudity and pornography. Nudity in art is about the perfection of forms, or the weakness in mind and body, or purity. Take, for example, Michelangelo’s sculpture David, which is a statue of the second king of Israel, or the cupid paintings in Cathedrals. The scene with Fanboy and Yo bathing is a metaphorical example of their inherent weakness, their dependence on Boog to remain clean, and the temporary relief before the trials come back. This is not in any way portrayed to be pornographic and the illustration does not reveal anything below their collarbones (Fanboy, below his chest). Yo is relaxing for the first time in weeks and Fanboy's also enjoying the warmth and is scrubbing at his hands.**

* * *

Fanboy and Yo try their best to work together, but it proves too testing for their fragile psyches. What begins as a sharply-tongued conversation about planning their next escape attempt twists into a mean-spirited shouting match, each blaming the other for everything that’s gone wrong, and sinking quite low with spitting insults. Things like, _Chum Chum will never like you_ , and, _I hope you get bopped_ , and, _people don’t think you’re nice_ , and, _who would wanna find you anyway? Nobody likes you_. Before long, they lose all focus on the important matter at hand in favor of trading slights. Fanboy becomes so angry that he almost strikes Yo, his fists clenched at his sides. Yo DOES strike him; pain exploding on the back of his head as her fist collides with it. Everything it takes Fanboy to not hit her back is in vain, and his palm finds her face in the dark, slapping it with all his might, anger churning in his gut.

The physical altercation does dampen their anger, as they finally realize how awful they’re acting, but they’re stubborn yet. Yo, Fanboy scoffs through his growls, has the nerve to make a turtle's retreat and hide behind her tears after he’s slapped her, to manipulate him into feeling guilt for what he’d argue was a slap well-deserved. For a while, he stews in silence, so determined to hate Yo that he even surprises himself. He could only imagine what Chum Chum, the peacemaker of the trio, would think of his very un-hero like behavior.

Fanboy isn’t completely hard-hearted, remorse DOES finally ebb its way into his heart. With a tired groan, Fanboy swallows his pride and grits out an apology as Yo sniffles in the corner. At least he can be the better person, Fanboy reasons haughtily, crossing his arms and huffing. He’s about to drift off when Yo quietly apologizes, her soft, hoarse voice barely reaching his ears. Surprised but suspicious, Fanboy grunts in acknowledgment and leans against the door. He’ll pretend he’s moved on, that he doesn’t care. After they leave this place, they’ll go their separate ways and never speak to one another except through Chum Chum.

Perhaps if their minds weren’t so fuzzy and exhausted, they could have banded together and made some progress, maybe even come up with a new plan! But as they are, it’s an impossibility.

With the likelihood of help arriving shrinking and shrinking, they begin to grow quite depressed. Waiting in vain, they experience significant time dilation. It's common for a child to think time moves slowly, but here, the inescapable present they know becomes a retroactive illusion. They don't quite understand the tricks their minds play on them, which leaves open room for the grim belief that forever has passed. Galaxy Hills is a rather sleepy town, and there shouldn't be enough crime to completely occupy the police. Yo simmers with worry. Boog must've covered his tracks well if even Agent Johnson, the head of Galaxy Hills’s security, can't find them. Nonetheless, she keeps her chin up, assured that they’ll be found, and expresses sympathy toward their prospective rescuers in kind.

Yo bristles as she settles back into her uncomfortable sleeping position. She hugs her middle, wishing her kitty was here to snuggle her. She'd do anything to see her pet's adorable, fuzzy orange face. 

Fanboy's anxious wait deepens the longer he is kept from Chum Chum, his other half. At first, he's in awe that something could dare step in between them, something like concrete walls, something like Boog. It's ridiculous, he thinks in disbelief, that he should suffer like this; he's just a kid! And for a brief, selfish moment, Fanboy wishes Chum Chum were there to comfort him. At least, then he'd know of his whereabouts and soothe that anxiety. Without Chum Chum, Fanboy is more or less an anxious wreck, a far cry from his usual cheery self, more irritable than usual, snapping curtly and sharply at Yo, who in turn sneers to mask her hurt. 

Sluggish and starving, they shiver in the cold, dank prison, the hard concrete—flat as it is—hurting their rumps as they lay day after day. The hum of the generator causes Fanboy’s head to pulse even as he plugs his ears and curls up into a ball. Yo adapts to the white noise, but even she cannot escape the dull panic plaguing her mind at every waking moment. She wakes up hours later, blinking drearily as the hum buzzes about her skull like an annoying insect. Her muscles ache, and a crick in her neck smarts with pain when she turns her head. To her left, a snore makes her stomach twist with jealousy. Fanboy has become so tired that he sleeps right through the noise. Granted, it takes days of consciousness to get to where he can sleep through just about anything, and now his exhausted mind is being chiseled away by a massive amount of stress. Estranged from Chum Chum, his newly-anguished person deviates, and his chipper self succumbs to someone irritably distant. Yo doesn’t voice her dislike for it until the start of the second month when Fanboy develops an odd habit: he sits silently before the door, staring mindlessly for hours. At first, Yo shrugs it off as Fanboy being Fanboy, but deep down she knows this is not normal.

Anger flares in Yo's chest as she stares into the darkness, barely making out his silhouette. Silence does a number on the mental state, talking is a saving grace, and although she considers Fanboy a lousy replacement friend, he’s all she has. If he won't communicate, she'll MAKE him. Unfortunately, her methods are most unorthodox; blowing raspberries in Fanboy's ear, poking his face, flicking his glass eye, and callling him names, but he shrugs off all provocations like a champ, his stoic attitude almost creeping her out. She wonders if the circumstance or personal vendetta is the cause. Thinking of her past behavior, Yo cringes. She can't stand this cold shoulder for much longer.

...

Yo feels as if she hadn't slept in days. In fact, she thinks ruefully, she may not have slept in weeks for all she can tell. She has completely lost track of time and with all exits boarded up tightly and heavily curtained, is unable to mark the passing of day into night. When she had been brought to this stark and dreary room she had been blinded for an unaccountable amount of time and so cannot even begin to guess how long this latest nightmare had been going on.

When Fanboy sits brooding the room falls into an eerie silence, the air so still Yo can hear the rush of blood through her veins. Her futile attempts at goading Fanboy into speaking or even shouting has gone unanswered and quickly degenerates into snarls and pleas that do more to shame than comfort. The silence clings to her in a suffocating cocoon that chokes and leaves her reluctantly wishing her classmate would say something, anything. If only the thick, unbearable silence were scattered and broken, then Yo could have the small reassurance that she does indeed exist after all; that she isn't merely a pawn in Boog's game.

Growing desperate, Yo takes advantage of his sensory issues, laying down on her back and noisily stomping her feet against the wall. Months ago, when Chum Chum had first told her about Fanboy's sensory issues, she'd scoffed. How could that be possible for a loud, obnoxious person like Fanboy? Well, now she is taking advantage of what she knows. The methods are harsh, but Yo feels that Fanboy deserves this for ignoring her. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Fanboy recoils as the sound bounces around the room but keeps his eyes on the door. He can handle sounds like chewing, squealing, and chanting, but adverse noises like scraping, drilling, and whirring drive him into a small panic, especially if he’s under extreme duress. Under normal circumstances, he could leave the room and talk to an adult if unable to tolerate the noise any longer.

Here, he can't leave and there is no adult supervision. 

Yo kicks the wall harder, determined to get a reaction, but all Fanboy does is wonder how many scuffs her heels are leaving. Yo's chest tightens. Does he hate her that much? It's not like it's her fault that they're here. It's Boog's!

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! **THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!**

Finally, Fanboy clenches his fists and grinds his teeth at the girl behind him. Yo’s foot pauses mid-stomp. After a short pause, he asks in a mocking tone if she's done throwing her fit. Insulted, she glares, her eyes red-rimmed with tears as she gives one last hard stomp.

Fanboy slumps and massages his temples, but shuts his trap, knowing better than to indulge her. In this instance, revenge is best served mute. Not permanently, mind, but long enough to get the message across that he won't bend to her whim. 

Yo sits up, furious. She tells him that she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her days ignored. As expected, he doesn’t answer. She stares at the back of his head, almost giving in to the urge to hit him, but he’s as impulsive as she is, and when a volcano meets a tornado, things get crazy dangerous. He's thin and weak, but he can throw down just as well as she can. Plus, they've endured enough pain from Boog, why deal it out to each other? Physical assault off the table, she tries to work out what to do, aggressively chewing her blunt fingernails. She has nobody to express her grievances to, but another child whose grace and maturity are severely lacking. 

After a little while, Yo gives up on invoking a response and decides to talk aloud regardless. It's better than keeping everything bottled up, and this way, he can listen just in case. To Fanboy's credit, he does not plug up his ears, and Yo takes it as a sign of hope. Even so, her voice is low and laced with hurt as she utters her grievances, fears, and wishes. She wants to go home, to have a shower, or at the very least, to have a friend.

Fanboy frowns. As far as he's concerned, they've never been friends, and after Yo's little stomping fit, he's remiss to accept a peace offering at the moment. He’s so certain at first, but when he hears her cry, he feels a smidge of guilty staining his heart.

She mourns their freedom, curses their captor, and recants the memories of their friends. A social butterfly, she misses them all dearly, Chum Chum the most. Fanboy, having witnessed how far she'd go to kidnap his best friend, snorts loudly. Expecting this reaction, Yo admits that Fanboy has an intimate bond with his best friend that cannot be topped, so of course, it’s more difficult for him to cope. A sacred tie like that to be severed by a villain like Boog must break Fanboy's heart, and in turn, break Chum Chum's own. Yo has Lupe, to whom she has shared secrets and played with many a time, but their friendship cannot be compared to what Fanboy and Chum Chum have, therefore by some margin curtailing the value of her own heartbreak. At least, that's what she's beginning to believe. At the same time, Yo's bottom lip trembles, and her hands twist in her lap. What she admits next is embarrassing, but she forces it out before she surrenders to shame.

She needs him.

Fanboy's jaw drops. This admission, if truthful, is alien. For a moment, he considers it fact, but the stubborn part of him remembers that Yo is a master manipulator. She has faked sincerity to get what she wants in the past, so why not now? That hardens Fanboy's resolve to keep on ignoring her.

Yo lowers her head while hot salty tears gush from her eyes and drip-drop to the floor, momentarily ashamed to have divulged her rival like this when she knows he won't respond in kind. She thinks she sounds pathetic and angrily swipes at her tears as if they’re acidic, but the pain in her heart is too great, and it's not long before she's openly sobbing.

Fanboy's remaining eye grows hot. Her words have hit their mark. Suddenly, the very idea of ignoring a person going through the same torment seems cruel. How would he feel if the tables were turned? Then again, why bother? Struggling, he tries to imagine what Chum Chum would do if he were confined in this room with Yo. Gifted a kind soul, Chum Chum would comfort her to the best of his ability, no matter his grievances. He would give Yo a big hug, console her, _talk_ to her, give advice, encourage her, and then some! Yo isn't asking for even half of that. She just wants his acknowledgment and he's ignoring her. Out of spite? Anger? Depression? He doesn't even know. 

What would Chum Chum think of his behavior? ...Some hero he is.

Yo buries her face in her hands to muffle her wails, and it’s more than Fanboy can bear. If she has truly put her heart on the table, his lack of response is something to atone for. He turns and gently pats her shoulder, realizing that what she's undergoing needs to be dealt with delicately.

Surprised by the touch, Yo gasps before Fanboy embraces her in an awkward but sincere hug. She cries as she wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his nape. A bit embarrassed and about to cry himself, Fanboy apologizes for his behavior and promises that he'll talk to her. Clamming up like a, well, clam, is not what a superhero-in-training should do. Just PLEASE never stomp the wall again.

Yo swallows a hiccup and chokes out an apology as well, promising that she'll try to give him space when he needs it. Fanboy pats her head, a surprisingly sweet gesture, and pulls back. Then, to lighten the mood, he challenges her to play a word game, to which she gratefully accepts wiping away the last of her tears.

\---

Having a better understanding of each other’s emotions, wants, and needs, helps ebb the years-long rivalry with each passing day. They are beginning to trust another while they sleep, using each other for pillows when Fanboy's cape becomes too worn, and they’re opening up more often. Trust between them is new and a little scary, but they have all the time in the world to take things slowly.

The same can’t be said for Boog, a man with little patience and even less empathy. He tries repeatedly to engage the alienated children, but they are in no mood to accept the former bully-now-captor. They only ever acknowledge his existence by accepting the meals he pushes through the slot on the door. Perhaps if Fanboy had continued to ignore Yo, she would have fought for Boog's attention, but the empty void in her chest has been filled. She doesn't need Boog to have a conversation. She has Fanboy.

Frustrated with their lack of cooperation, Boog takes away their meals as punishment, only appearing in person to refill their water supply and sweep glass-ceramic shards off the floor when Yo's palm accidentally gets cut and Fanboy attempts to wield a large shard as a weapon.

Naturally, the children don’t plan on starving to death, so they begrudgingly swear their compliance after six days sans food. Satisfied, Boog pulls them down to eat, treating them with gentle, fatherly care. It's unsettling, to say the least, for him to coo over them, pet their heads, play with their hands as if they're animals or dolls.

Yo slumps faintly on one side of Boog, Fanboy, on the other, as he finally gives them the go. Their little hands snatch the food from the single ceramic plate Boog has brought. It’s a lavish meal: fried chicken, raisins, apples, and even two cups of cold milk. They down it all as quickly as he will allow them because if they aren't careful, everything will come back up. 

Suspecting it will be a while until his next meal, Fanboy closes his eyes to try to savor what he has, but Boog’s proximity squanders any chance of real enjoyment. He eyes the empty plate, the gears in his mind cranking as he formulates a plan. Hastily, he glances up at Boog to make sure he's occupied. Yo cries as she chews, her paranoia rearing its ugly head as Boog comfortingly pats the top of her greasy mane. It's all she can do to keep from vomiting and wishes something would stop him. Answering her silent plea, Fanboy snatches the empty ceramic plate and staggers back, fully prepared to bash their smug tormentor’s head. Unfortunately, fatigue and malnutrition slow him and Boog seizes the plate without trouble and lightly slaps the boy's face.

Yo nearly chokes on her food, clutching her throat and coughing like mad. Holding his reddening cheek, Fanboy groans and tries to throw a punch, but Boog catches the tiny fist within his enormous hold. Fanboy's face is ashen with fear as he struggles to yank away, and Boog tells him with relish that he could crush the fist in his own without trouble. That notion is terrifying, and Fanboy squeaks at the pressure closing in around his trapped hand, but more terrifying is watching Yo retch. He cries out an apology and pulls as hard as he can so he can help Yo, whose eyes are bugging out, but luckily, she's able to hack out the dried piece of meat on her own. Boog chuckles at the absurdity of Fanboy's efforts and drags him back down next to Yo, who clutches her friend.

Eyeing the discarded piece of meat Yo just hacked out, Boog plucks it up and forces it into Yo's open mouth. She squeals with disgust at the callused flesh and slimy meat scraping against the roof of her mouth, feeling she may actually vomit this time. She reflexively bites down on his fingers, but Boog easily pries her open and shoves the strip down her throat, slamming her mouth shut soon after and demanding she swallow. Yo's blue, bloodshot eyes blaze with furious anger, but fear overrides all else, and she swallows. Watching the lump in her throat sink, Boog smiles and sits back to watch Fanboy panic over Yo, clutching her waist and shielding her from their captor with a steely-eyed glare.

Giving another small chuckle at their tear-streaked, hollow faces, Boog slyly asks if they enjoyed their first date. The children squint, having trouble reading the implications, and merely respond as to how children do when confronted with an accusation or question hinting towards romance: disgust. They quickly pull apart, wishing to, if anything, dispel the suspicion that they may like each other "like that".

Dismissing their behavior, Boog crouches and wrinkles his nose. It has been too long for them to go without a bath. He doesn't need them to stink up the place, and more importantly, doesn't want them to fall ill. With a quick huff, he orders them to press up against the back wall. If they disobey, he promises he will hurt them badly.

Not wanting to take their chances, they obey, and Boog hauls in an ovular metal basin. It’s about three feet tall, three feet wide, and it has two metal grips on either side. Settling it against the wall opposite the children, Boog gradually fills the basin with warm water from a hose that he slipped through the thin slot of the door. Fanboy and Yo don’t try to escape; they're too frightened and the door is too heavy for either of them to budge anyway.

When the basin's over halfway filled with steamy water, Boog detaches the nozzle and scoots the hose back through the slot. Slicking his hair back, Boog praises them for listening and pulls out two packets of club crackers and two water bottles. While they scarf down the salty snacks, Boog gives them a pink bar of soap, two beach towels, and a half-full shampoo bottle. These small commodities are Godsend, but they don't consider thanking their captor as if he's treating them right. Fortunately, Boog doesn't ask for thanks, and leaves them alone in the dark so they can bathe in semi-privacy.

Unbridled with excitement, Fanboy yanks off his gloves and plunges his cold bare hands into the steaming water. Shuddering at the warmth, he wonders why he'd ever waved away a bath or shower. Before this nightmare began, he’d have no problem getting dirty. Now, he can’t wait to be rid of this grime. For both the heat and the fact that his face has gotten so greasy, it's scary. Yo's in the same boat, having felt grimy since day three. She's so happy she gets to clean herself, and that her classmate will also be able to enjoy this temporary luxury. She pities Fanboy for his inability to handle the cold as well as she does. 

While undressing, they argue over who gets to wash first until neither of them can stand another minute of standing shivering in the dark. They eventually decide to jump in together. It _is_ pitch-black, and sad as it is, they have grown used to the lack of privacy with having to use the commode with the other just feet away. Still, they take great care to be respectful and sit on opposite ends of the basin and leave on their undergarments, like swimsuits. Their excited movements splash water over the sides of the basin, so they calm down and reveling in the comforting warmth. 

After a bit of relaxation, they scrub relentlessly at their skin, scraping off grime layers with their fingernails. Fanboy opts to remove his cowl in the pitch black so he too can shampoo his greasy, stringy hair. They agree that soap is the best option for toothpaste, and they use their fingernails to scrape away the building plaque. After thoroughly cleaning herself, Yo rests her arms on the rim of the tub, feeling content and safe while Fanboy scrubs the bar over his hand, humming a jingle. 

\---

**\---**

When Fanboy's as clean as he can be, he contentedly paddles the water and appreciates the ceaseless warmth. Tucked into himself to make space for Yo, he feels like a baby bird curled up inside an egg, warm and safe. He wonders how Boog has managed to supply this warm water. The hose must have been rigged to a heater or boiler of sorts. He brightens. Well, however so, he's going to enjoy this moment until the water cools. 

On her end of the tub, Yo smiles at Fanboy's dark silhouette, relieved by his presence. She tells him she doesn't think she could do this without him, keep her sanity in the thicket of darkness. Flattered and unsure, Fanboy quietly responds that even if one of them were alone, things would turn out okay, because they're both tough. They'd outlast Boog and escape, even solo.

Yo perks. Just as she said before, she's happy he's here to tell her.

Fanboy sticks out his tongue with playful disgust, begging her to quit being mushy.

Yo obeys with a laugh and a splash of water to his face. He sputters in surprise, blinking into the darkness, and promptly splashes her back. Before long, they've declared war, and water goes flying. They only stop when Yo realizes that they're getting the rest of their clothes (which are piled on the floor) wet. When the water goes cool and murky from their grime, they reluctantly step out onto the cold concrete floor, soaked but clean. They dry as best they can with their ratty towels and quickly redress, uncertain as to when Boog will return.

As if on cue, the dim light turns on outside, and Boog reappears with his back to them. When he turns, Fanboy and Yo can see that he’s holding a cluster of things. They huddle close for security as he sets up a lantern. It paints the room in an amber glow and causes them to shield their sensitive eyes. Boog lays out a broad, soft comforter on the wet floor along with two pillows. Cradling a children's book, he sits in the center of the blanket and pats the spaces beside him.

Fanboy and Yo cautiously take their places and stiffen as he sniffs the air like a biden and nods in approval. They pay close attention as he begins to read _The Witches_ in a low, ominous voice. It’s a long story, but Boog's sharp grunt is all it takes for them to stand alert. After the book ends, Boog gives them each a comforting caress to the tops of their heads and exits.

They're surprised both by the refreshing story-time and the gift he left behind. The comforter is thick and soft, miles better than the cold concrete floor. It will provide warmth and security, things they’ve craved since they woke up here for the first time. Fanboy shrieks happily but Yo's suspicions hold her back, so she shakes out the blanket to determine if there's any mischief. It wouldn’t be shocking if Boog has planted something, but the comforter shows no signs of tampering. Still, as a talented prankster, she's satisfied that it has been checked.

Fanboy cannonballs on. Yo joins him, and together they wrap themselves up like a cocoon to bask in the warmth—Fanboy trembles with glee as he settles next to his friend. FINALLY, they fall into a comfortable sleep, soothed by the beating of each other’s hearts and the hope that they'll soon be found. 

* * *

**Author's Note:** **It was challenging to write the "dialogue" between Fanboy and Yo. Hopefully, I'll master it as the story goes on. Let me know what you think, and have a lovely day!**


	3. Shears and Fists

Four months. One hundred and twenty days. Not that Fanboy and Yo can keep track of the numbers when they've lost track of time itself in their itchy, grimy, freezing prison. By the time Yo has the idea to tally the numbers on the walls with her fingernails, she has already lost count.

Fanboy worriedly paces the room, chewing the thumb of his glove and half-heartedly kicking the solid wall every once in a while. Yo joins him out of boredom and together they create a sloppy figure eight. The question, of course, that is brewing on both their minds is just how much longer are they going to be trapped in here, and for what REASON?

Whatever the motive behind Boog's atrocious actions, no matter how much they beg to be set free, he doesn't budge. A sorry excuse for a person, Yo growls to herself, and an ever sorrier jailer at that. He doesn't even bother to provide them regular meals. Even jailers keep their prisoners on a strict eating schedule, but Boog either takes pleasure in withholding meals, or he’s simply a forgetful, neglectful idiot. Both, the captives inevitable conclude. Both, because the way his eyes glint as they scour over Fanboy's waning form and his genuine surprise every time he finds them faint from hunger is proof.

Under Boog’s creepy stare, Fanboy wants to curl up and hide. His skin-tight costume soon has grown loose around his emaciating body, his ribs as prominent as ever. The severe loss of body fat means he can't keep himself warm on his own; unless to use the bathroom, he resolves to never leave the comforter's shelter. Yo has a slower metabolism and doesn't look as starved as she feels, but the hollowing in her face spells hunger. Her fuller figure has become its own sort of shelter, providing Fanboy the warmth he needs to keep from freezing. Fanboy doesn’t want to be dependent on Yo for that, but he really hasn’t a choice, especially when the temperature sinks so low that their breath is visible. Well, Yo sighs, it would be visible if it weren't for the dark, which is dreadful, consuming their souls and chipping at the rungs of their sanity ladders.

Some days are more bearable than others. On ones with little chatter and food, Fanboy suffers multiple panic attacks. Whenever he thinks he's out of tears, a fresh batch will trickle from his working eye and puddle onto the concrete floor. At this point, he isn't even embarrassed to be crying in front of his frenemy. Not that she would have any room to make fun of him; she’s hurting tremendously. However, Yo uses anger to counteract her fear, daydreaming about punching Boog in the face and becoming strong enough to take on the brute in an old-fashioned ring. It works, her crying fits ebbing, but she subsequently leaves Fanboy to fill the void with his own sobs. Yo smiles, allowing herself to relax in the fantasy for a little while before reality flashes back and she wonders for the millionth time if people are even looking. It isn’t fun to think about though she knows deep in her heart that they are being searched for.

…

The generator has kept them up for well over a day, or so they guess, and the air is freezing as usual. Poor Fanboy is beyond his limits, suffering under months of cold, starvation, and stressed. He grinds his hands into his eyes to force back tears, hissing and growling at himself to stay strong. It works for a little while and he manages to save face when Yo asks him if he’s okay. He even cracks a small smile.

As the hours trudge by, however, Fanboy feels the dams in his eyes begin to break. He can’t imagine how worried everyone is. If only he could utilize his powers and bust out, but without Chum Chum nearby to fuel them, it’s an impossible wish. Fanboy silently apologizes to his best friend, scrunching up his face and hoping to telepathically communicate if he tries hard enough. Unfortunately, it’s wishful thinking, and Fanboy collapses back onto the floor with a new headache prodding the edges of his skull. He wonders dryly if said headache is the result of his intense concentration or dehydration. Either way, it hurts.

Fanboy groans and curls up into a ball. Now all he can think about is water and how cool and refreshing it would feel against his severely chapped lips. He licks them and swallows down a tiny bout of saliva. His mouth feels like a desert, his tongue like sandpaper. When is Boog going to show up with water? How long has it been? A day? Two? How much longer is Boog going to stall? Surely, he can’t be doing anything THAT important! Unless… Chimp Chomp. Fanboy grits his teeth as his tears begin to fall. His tongue darts out to catch the droplets, but it’s not nearly enough. Thus, he begins to heave.

His noises draw Yo from a brooding stupor, and she gazes tenderly at the general direction of where Fanboy is curled up alone. She shuffles to him and places a cold little hand on his bony shoulder. She remains silent, but the touch alone seems to provide a bit of comfort. Fanboy continues to cry, but a little quieter. 

Despite her history with Fanboy, Yo feels awful seeing him like this. Her eyes light up suddenly. He needs a distraction, and she knows just what to do.

Unprompted, Yo gently takes Fanboy’s hands in hers and asks for him to tell her the origin of his glass eye, a tale she has yet have heard and is genuinely curious. The inquiry is so unexpected that Fanboy actually quiets and rolls over to face her. Yo pauses, worried that he may find such a topic too personal to discuss, but he appears open, sitting up and nodding. Understandably, he's curious as to why she wants to know, but rightfully chalks it up to curiosity, and despite his worsening anxiety, Fanboy calms down enough to sit back to back and tell the story.

Five years ago, Fanboy and Chum Chum were perfect strangers to each other, completely unaware of the powers that would be unlocked in tandem with a powerful friendship. Little Chum Chum, upon greeting Fanboy for the first time in kindergarten, got handsy and shoved his gloved finger directly into Fanboy's right, open eye. One trip to the hospital later and little Fanboy was branded half-blind and set with ocular prostheses.

Fanboy folds his hands behind his head and smiles a rare warm smile. He and Chum Chum have been best friends ever since.

Yo listens eagerly, chewing her nails. Hearing him speak so casually about such terrible pain is perplexing, and she wonders aloud if he was ever angry with Chum Chum for the injury, or if he was scared. To that, Fanboy shrugs. Any small child would be confused and scared. He explains that the loss of his eye and adjusting to life with a prosthetic _was_ difficult, and he had to go to counseling for months after the surgery. It wasn’t and isn't easy, Fanboy concedes, but he doesn’t let it bother him.

With a grand flourish, he regards the room. Here, in this dark prison, it doesn't matter at all that he’s only got one eye. Both he and Yo are completely blind, so there's no use complaining. Besides, he was never angry with Chum Chum to begin with. The poor kid was born without his left leg! If he could make do with one leg, Fanboy can make do with one eye.

Yo nods in hindsight, remembering back to simpler times when she’d watched the duo from a hiding place. While just as green and vibrant as his right, Fanboy's left eye did not move as freely and briskly. It had never occurred to Yo that it could be artificial. Only when she saw it come right out of his fleshy socket did she realize— Yo taps her cheek and rubs her thumb along the skin beneath her eye. It’s fascinating, really. She wonders what life would be like with one eye, what such a thing could feel like!

Before she can think about of carefully, she asks Fanboy if she can feel the glass eye itself. There’s a short silence that’s quickly followed by Yo’s awkward giggling. She can feel his weight shift and she wants to kick herself for being so blunt. Face warming with embarrassment, Yo hastily assures him that he doesn't have to let her touch his eye; it's _his_ eye, after all. 

Yo hears more shuffling and feels his lithe weight settle. Then, she feels his gloved hands find hers. Slowly, he lifts them until her fingers come into contact with the faux eye's smooth glassy surface. It's warm and slightly damp, most likely due to the eyelid still providing suction from the tear duct to keep the “eye” from drying out. The working nerves in Fanboy's eye socket respond to her foreign touch, and he instinctively blinks. Yo withdraws her shaking hand and exhales, feeling both oddly warm and chilled. Fanboy, still holding her hand, squeezes it and retracts.

The silence that follows that little exchange feels odd, but neither Fanboy nor Yo can ignore the tiny flutter in their chests as lay side-by-side beneath the blankets. Fanboy is especially conflicted, for one realizing that perhaps Yo's presence isn't such a burden after all.

\---

One day, Boog appears _without_ food. Instead, he is holding a lantern--the red kind one would buy with camping gear. He closes the door, switches on the said lantern, and sets it down at his feet, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. Fanboy covers his working eye while Yo blinks rapidly, the light hurting her optics.

Boog crosses his arms across his broad chest and gazes thoughtfully at his captives. Besides the glint in his blue eyes, which looks brown in the dim haze, his face is unreadable. Fanboy whimpers, dislinking this still, calm Boog nearly as much as violent, deriding Boog. Yo shares his aversion, and they curl up together. The man watches intently, tilting his head to the side as they tuck themselves into a little ball, innately trying to appear small and helpless to show Boog that they mean no harm, are not a threat and that he needn't hurt them. 

It doesn't work. Boog takes Fanboy by the scruff and tears him away from Yo, who squeals and reaches out to grab for her friend's hands. Fanboy lets out a yelp of his own as Boog yanks him to stand on his wobbly legs. He daren't move as Boog gives him a once over, staring intently into his wide, fearful eyes. Yo watches, shaking. Then, perplexingly, Boog grins and pats him on the head. He doesn't even get a chance to process what is happening before Boog leads him to where Yo is pressing back against the wall. Boog settles the young male to sort of hover above, hand on either side of her. 

Satisfied, Boog sits back to watch with his piercing gaze, one leg hooked over the other and both fists settled evenly on his knee.

Fanboy trembles over Yo, too frightened to move. Yo shuts her eyes and covers her ears to block it out, unable to look at Fanboy in the eye nor listen to his whimpers.

Their lack of feedback makes Boog frown, and he gives Fanboy a poke in the side, wanting to elicit a response and watch them interact, like how he used to watch insects when he was a kid. What would happen if he put the roly-poly on top of the ladybug? What if he put a cricket next to a butterfly? What would happen if he pulled off a grasshopper's leg?

Boog rearranges their positions so that they are nose-to-nose. The superfan takes deep breaths to calm his nerves and opts to remain still until the man gets bored. Feeling Fanboy's warm breath against her lips, Yo just closes her eyes and waits for _this_ to be over.

Boog does not like that. He places a hand on the back of Fanboy’s head and crushes their faces together. Fanboy turns his head at the last second, and amazingly, Yo is able to shut out the situation and stay silent. On the contrary, Fanboy is about to cry, sweaty, and dry-mouthed. His stomach sinks low, and bile creeps up his throat while his weakened arms begin to shake under his lithe form. He's powerless, having become a marionette for Boog to settle him into the next coveted stance.

When they don't do what Boog wants (whatever it is), he releases Fanboy. The rattled young male falls to his side off the comforter onto the cold hard floor, his lanky arms aching from the strain. He glowers at Boog, sucking air between his chattering teeth, now more angry than scared. Fanboy's a bit thick, but even he understands that THIS is wrong. Rage building in his chest, he snarls wordlessly.

Yo opens her eyes, disoriented, but then alarmed when her colleague gets to his aching feet and stares dead-on into the man’s eyes. She tugs his gloved hand, urging him to sit back down, but Fanboy only squeezes her assuredly.

Boog stares at their joined hands, a faint smirk spreading across his chiseled face. He orders Fanboy to sit, but Fanboy brazenly refuses. Boog gives him a warning, but again, Fanboy refuses.

It's a standoff. Fanboy wants autonomy, and Boog wants to control—they both stare menacingly, neither willing to back down. Yo’s eyes flit back and forth, and she grows ever-more fretful of Fanboy’s burst of insubordination. If he isn’t careful, it will cost them more than what it’s worth. Her hoarse voice warbles in a desperate plea. It breaks Fanboy's concentration for a fraction of a second, but it’s more than what Boog needs to make his move, propelling forward and smashing his fist against Fanboy’s hollow face. The sheer force sends him flying backward to slam against the wall behind him with a crack. 

Yo screams. The echo of Fanboy's lanky body colliding with the ground rings in her ears, causing her to lose her nerve. With as much vigor as possible, she shouts at Boog to leave them alone. At first, Boog ignores her in favor of massaging his bruised knuckles, a testament to how hard he’d struck Fanboy, but then, he smiles. About two seconds pass before Yo realizes that she has made a big mistake.

...Boog wipes the blood from his bruised knuckles onto the comforter. He’s breathless, riding a long-sought-after high. He glances at the two broken children lying crumpled on the floor, and at the lantern, deciding to leave it there so they can see the results of punishment. Boog smiles and promises them that he’ll be back with dinner later. Then, he goes.

Sensing the clear coast, Fanboy allows himself to sob. With every shuddering breath he takes, his ribs smart with pain, and a trickle of blood drips from his nose. It’s a struggle to prop himself up on all fours, and an even worse effort to drag his broken body over to Yo, slumped unconscious in the corner Boog dumped her after the vicious beating, 

Along the way, Fanboy's glass eye falls to the ground with a 'clink.' It rolls before coming to a stop at Yo's shoe. Fanboy snatches the ocular prostheses up and holds it to his chest with a pained moan. Everything hurts so much.

Yo's in even worse shape, breathing hoarsely and unevenly. Boog seems to understand that Fanboy, while taller than his female counterpart, is frailer than she, and Boog cannot be as rough with Fanboy as he can be with Yo. She has a tougher frame and can withstand a far worse beating than Fanboy can. 

Seeing Yo like this--blaming himself for her state--pains him in a way he never thought possible. It is more profound than the physical hurt, deeper than the momentary sadness he feels from time to time; it is a sorrow buried in the back of his hyperactive mind—a clandestine emotion, previously inactive. He tries to collect himself, but Yo’s condition entices the sentiment from its hiding place and pushes it to the forefront of his brain. 

He's so sorry. 

The superfan slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob as the dam in his good eye breaks. Once again, his tears create a small puddle on the floor as he voices his anguish. His spirit is drained, and he can’t remember a time when he has felt this useless. He curls up next to his comatose friend, his mind shutting off to escape this torment, and he clutches his glass eye to his chest, noting with dismay the hairline fracture running along its curve.

Fanboy wakes up later to find that Yo is still unconscious. He doesn’t move from the spot for fear of injuring himself or her. Instead, he dusts off and reinserts his eye and tries to think of the positives, seldom as they are. It's what Chum Chum is and something he should have been all along: optimistic.

They _have_ been getting weekly baths, and now they have a comforter, so they don't have to sleep on the concrete. He sniffs and nods to himself. Yes, they're lucky to have those things, and, most importantly, _each other_. 

If Fanboy can thank Yo for anything, it’s for the warmth she provides. Fanboy’s working eye has grown accustomed to the dark but his body hasn’t adapted to the cold. He wants to cry all over again when he sees Yo’s miserable face. It’s bruised, bloody, blotchy with dried tears, and crusty with inspissated snot. He’s sure that he looks just as bad, although there’s no guarantee; there are no mirrors. 

Humming to calm his nerves, Fanboy ties her worn shoelaces, looping the laces into a bow the way she taught him during one of their long hours.

He doesn’t realize it, not wholly, but she is _all he has_ and vice-versa. They fight and argue on occasion since there is little to do in this room, and they need to vent often, but most of their conversations are pleasant. When they don’t talk, they sleep, and when sleep is impossible, they pace around the room to bring their muscles back from atrophy. Nearly all of their conscious hours are spent lying side-by-side, drifting in and out of conversations. 

Yo blinks, stirring. Fanboy releases her laces and brushes aside her bangs, whispering her name. She takes one look at him and crumples into tears. Hooking her arm over his shoulder, Fanboy helps her hobble back to the comforter and lay down. 

\---

A few days pass... They miss everyone terribly. When Yo tries to sleep, she hears Fanboy crying and whispering his best friend’s name under his breath. He usually awakens from his nightmares as a terrifying mess, so Yo comforts him as best she can. When he’s inconsolable, the best thing to do is wait until he calms down and falls back into an uneasy sleep. Yo misses her friends. Some kids get tired of the company, but she wants to see her pals more than ever, if only for a moment or two.

Most days, they wonder if people are searching for them. If so, are their faces printed onto milk cartons? Are there missing posters plastered across town? Are there police teams with dogs? Are people out on the streets of Galaxy Hills calling their names? Is Man-Arctica offering his assistance? These are comforting possibilities, but how long will it take for them to be found? 

Surely they can’t be that far from home, and even if they are… Yo doesn’t want to think about it, unlike Fanboy, who has plenty of imaginative ideas about where they could be: a secret bunker in Maine, an abandoned basement in Wisconsin, a laboratory in Antarctica, a sewer in New York, a haunted house in Colorado. He wants to make a game out of coming up with the most exciting ideas about where they could be but relents when Yo shows signs of an oncoming anxiety attack. He awkwardly gives her some space to wrap up in the blankets. It’s all he can do when she’s like this.

\---

Boog's bopping begins abruptly, but it doesn't shock his captives. A few months of tender care doesn't erase years of bullying. Boog has always been an aggressive tyrant, targeting children and adults alike to "bop." In an act of heroism, Fanboy crouches over Yo protectively shielding her from Boog’s wrath. She’s already beaten to unconsciousness and would be numb to more, but—

Boog lunges forward suddenly, grabbing Fanboy's arm and intentionally digging his sharp nails into the thin layer of flesh that Fanboy still has. Boog pulls Fanboy away from the wall before throwing him against the floor. He repeats this brutal action several times over, slamming Fanboy's body into the corner of the commode as hard as he can multiple times before grabbing the back of Fanboy's head and repeating the same action with his face. Yo hears more cracking noises echoing throughout the room as Fanboy's nose and cheekbones began to crack and break from the abuse. It’s bloody and awful, but he remains like a ragdoll in the arms of his tormentor. His flesh continues to bruise, his skin tearing open while new welts, bruises, and lacerations appear all over his battered, bony body. His lip splits wide open and both of his eyes turn a near-perfect black.

Once Boog grows tired of slamming Fanboy into the floor, however, he simply throws the boy against the wall to stifle his cries of agony. The torture isn’t done yet, though. Instead, he begins to kick Fanboy viciously, slamming his foot into any part of Fanboy that it could reach. Blow after blow falls upon the poor boy, striking his stomach, his sides, his limbs, and his head. Boog intentionally takes care not to kick Fanboy's head too hard, though, because he wants the boy to feel every single blow and it would do no good to accidentally break the boy's skull and leave him unconscious or dead.

But then, at long, long last, the torment comes to an end. Boog picks Fanboy up by the ear and throws him back to rest against the wall beside Yo. Boog wordlessly takes his leave of the room and doesn’t look back even once while he walks out the door. Fanboy slumps over immediately, dancing in and out of consciousness as the pain from his most recent beating washes over him like a wave, steady and pounding. He can’t breathe properly, he can barely see, there’s a ringing in his ears, and his entire face is gushing with blood. Fanboy's entire body throbs.

Finally, though, the pain subsides enough for Fanboy to form a conscious thought. This is perhaps the cruelest torment of all. Not only does his abuser come sporadically to beat them to near death, but he’s also subjecting them to long bouts of isolation where their bodies recover and ready themselves for another beating in the future. Boog’s bopping is so well-executed that they ensure Fanboy will suffer a maximum amount of pain without ever dying or suffering some sort of blow that would cause him to lose his sense of self. Boog’s pushing them to the brink before dragging them back just to make sure that when they came back, they’re still in the right shape to suffer.

Why us? Fanboy whispers that into the darkness as the pain finally subsides a little. Why me?

It’s a reasonable question to ask, though sounding silly and overly simplistic, but Fanboy really couldn't help but wonder, why him? Why have he and Yo, out of all the people in the world, been kidnapped for Boog’s hellish enjoyment, or whatever it is? Is it karma? No, he’s always tried his best to be good, and even if he feeds his destructive nature every now and then, doesn’t everyone? Does he really deserve this kind of punishment? Is this his reward for living a predominately good and moral life? Or is this karma for some horrible sin that he had committed without ever even knowing it? What could he possibly have done to deserve this? Is he not innocent? Is this some sort of divine retribution for some sin he had long since forgotten?

No. It isn’t. Yo insists it with a quiet moan of pain, and Fanboy knows this isn't divine retribution or some sort of karma. It's just bad luck. But that still doesn’t answer the question of why Boog has chosen them. Fanboy wants to know so badly; he’s not even asking this question with a sense of justice or retribution on his mind! He’s just asking what makes them so special that Boog wants them for himself. What on earth does that man see in them?

As Fanboy's thoughts and questions roll on through his throbbing head, the darkest thought of all finally rears its ugly head. What if all of this IS in vain? The concept of total isolation is still rather frightening. The idea that this life is really all he has is both scary and depressing. There is so much he'll never get to do if he never escapes. It’ll all just…go dark, and he’ll never get to see his best friend again, never feel the sun on his back, or the grass between his toes. These unforgiving walls will be his last sight. What if all of this suffering is in vain? It is one of the most tormenting thoughts of all to Fanboy.

But then, amidst all the darkness and the despair, the softest of voices calls out to his.

_Fanboy?_

The voice asks, almost impossible to hear, but Fanboy manages to catch the strains and he recognizes the voice immediately. He relaxes at once, his entire body going limp on reflex as the voice's caressing whispers wash over every inch of him. He basks in that sweet, familiar voice, allowing the words and whispers to continue to swirl all around his body and mind. He surrenders totally.

_I love you, Buddy._

His sentiments alert Yo back to the present, and through the pain and agony, she's able to tell Fanboy to stop. Her sharp, worried tone cuts through the sweet voice, and Fanboy snaps out of his dizzy stupor to find his friend staring at him in alarm. What was that? Who was he talking to? Surely, he doesn't _love_ her, right? Yo lowers her gaze in slight embarrassment. Fanboy doesn't sense it. He licks his split lip and smiles, promising he'll ignore it next time.

\---

Time drags on for what seems like forever. Fanboy doesn't mention his visit with the aspiration, so Yo doesn't push him for information. Boog offers little nourishment—even less than what he provided before. The captives spend most of their days licking their chapped lips, desperate for food and water while their bellies smarting with pain. They sporadically fall in and out of consciousness and what little urine they can pass is fuscous. They try to conserve energy but Boog comes to check on them often to jolt them awake. To trick their stomachs, they chew their fingernails and the inside of their cheeks until they bleed. They’re only allowed one glass of water each per day, so they suffer massive headaches.

Fanboy dreams of cheeseburgers, grilled to perfection and dripping with grease. Yo dreams of baloney and ham sandwiches, assembled into towers miles high. 

Boog's extreme depravity pushes the children to peak desperation. Taking every chance, they try all the mind-games they know to make Boog fumble. They call him names, mamaguy, plead, and ask personal questions. Everything is done with as much precision as possible, but they only manage to make him fumble once, resulting in a harsher beating and stripped privileges. The survival instincts within them are screaming to do something—anything to escape. It’s because of this desperation that they resort to risky tactics. 

...

Boog slams Fanboy up against the wall and pins him by driving his muscular forearm into the poor boy’s neck. Suspended above the ground, Fanboy gasps for air, kicking his feet uselessly as he wretches and chokes. Yo smacks her little fists into Boog's arm before trying to pull it away from Fanboy, but the man doesn’t budge. He’s beyond furious, the glint in his eyes having exploded into an inferno. 

Just moments before, Fanboy had shrieked at a supposed roach scuttling behind the commode. Clutching Yo, Fanboy'd implored Boog to dispose of the insect before it "got them". Because this room was designed to keep out things like pests, Boog was initially suspicious but interested to see what would happen if he crushed the bug against Fanboy's pale face. When he bent down to take a gander, Fanboy released Yo, crept from behind, and kicked Boog in between the legs as hard as possible. Yo watched, twisting Fanboy’s detached cape behind her back in preparation for what she was about to do. To their dismay, Fanboy's act of aggression had only managed to temporarily immobilize Boog, who quickly regained his footing and snatched the scrambling boy off his feet.

Ordinarily, Boog could enjoy a challenge, but rebellion is a crime for which he has no tolerance. Growling, he demands submission, staring unwaveringly into Fanboy's runny emerald eyes. Yo only speaks once, and it's to beg Boog to let Fanboy go. At that moment, she no longer fears the price of her words. Most crucial, she thinks, is that Fanboy hears them, that Fanboy knows Yo is right there with him and on his side. 

Without looking, Boog casually backhands the girl and sends her tumbling. He believes she, a child under his care, has no right to speak against his actions. Reeling, Yo sucks her retort back between her teeth and swallows it down whole. She gains a measure of consolation by knowing what she's saying will be heard by Fanboy, will niggle its way down into the roots of his mind, and summon the last bastion of strength he'll need to carry the rest of the plan out. 

Fanboy's eyes bug out, his face going red as he struggles for air. The man trapping him is staring right into his very soul, making it hard for him to regain his courage. He gasps as Boog suddenly drops him to the floor. Dizzied, Fanboy gulps in tremendous peals of air, clutching at his tender throat and touching his jugular, which had suffered the worst of Boog's assault. As Boog drops to one knee, Fanboy curls into himself, and Yo begins to inch her way toward them.

An apology. That's what Boog wants, the horrible brute. He grips Fanboy's chin and forces him to look upward until their eyes lock again, steely green against cerulean blue. An apology, not only for kicking Boog but for provoking the strangulation. This is his only chance to avoid another beating, for now. 

Fanboy's eyes lose some of their distance as he stares up at Boog. A light flickers to a steady burn behind his eyes—the light of recognition, the light of anger. Deep inside, Fanboy knows this is dangerous, knows he should not do this if he has any hope of keeping his spirit intact. Deep inside, he realizes that he has not only barred back his pain, but his rage, and thus, his own self as well.

Yo growls from behind Boog. Don't apologize. None of this is their fault. She shrinks back and scolds herself for saying a word when Boog tenses with anger. Luckily, he does not turn.

Boog's grip tightens until his fingers are nearly crushing Fanboy's face, and he smiles smugly when the boy gives a small sound of acknowledgment. Louder, Boog demands. Everyone must hear his apology. Fanboy's eyes lower, his face crumpling. As Boog leans in to accept Fanboy's final humiliating submission, something in Fanboy snaps. The feeling is visceral, animalistic, in its own way, nearly a reflex, an instinct, but an instinct that comes from within.

  
Boog's face is now inches from Fanboy's, ears primed, eyes wide, ready to receive. Yo observes the scene with rapt attention. She watches as Fanboy's eyes take on a strange look, and his lips quirk up in what might be even a smile. Fanboy's reddened eyes light up, and he smiles outright. Boog smiles back, sensing a victory.

Yo's words hit their mark, alright. As Boog readjusts his grip, Fanboy purses his lips and spits squarely in Boog's face.

_Oh_.

Yo's immediate reaction is blunt elation, but these feelings of joy are immediately washed away by the flood of dread that surges into the pit of her stomach. What torments will be brought to bear against Fanboy for this latest show of defiance?

What happens next seems to play out in slow motion. The spittle slowly, languorously dripped down Boog's trembling lips, down his iron-set jaw, and onto his collar – a foamy rivulet of shame announcing to the world that his charge has defied him. As he stares into the now glinting eyes of his opponent, Boog's whole body grows tensile, his muscles winding tight and his hands balling up into fists, crushing his thumbs inside strangling fingers. But it is his rage-widened eyes that would rivet Yo. Boog holds his face taut, though, behind his eyes, his other captive perceives a rumbling volcano ready to burst forth with murderous violence. 

  
Meanwhile, Fanboy's face carries no look of regret toward his jailer but the fiery spirit of a determined hero. Fanboy knows his actions were impulsive and most likely regretful, but he does not drag his eyes from Boog's glacial stare--a mistake, as it turns out since Fanboy's brilliant orbs enrage his tormentor even further. They remain suspended in time for endless moments after Fanboy spits upon his self-appointed mentor. They keep perfectly still: Boog out of shock; Fanboy out of defiance.

Yo watches in mute horror, nearly forgetting the plan. She expels a whistling breath through gritted teeth and feels every weak muscle in her frame pull tight as a bowstring.

Boog slowly, deliberately wipes the spittle off his disbelieving face with the back of his hand. Not for a moment does he tear his eyes from Fanboy. He smiles scarily, then says his name, low and cruel. 

_Fanboy_.

Fanboy cocks his head in abstract curiosity, wondering if he's hearing Boog say his actual name for the first time and of what might happen next. His sights are so bolted upon the pale blue flames flickering in his captor's eyes that he does not observe Boog drawing his fist back and plunging it with savage force into his own unsuspecting jaw. The crack of fist meeting bone rings so loud it echoes off the walls, a sound that is followed by the audible gasp of Yo.

Again, Fanboy is hoisted off his feet and slammed back into the wall by his throat. Boog is so determined to maintain his dominance that he doesn't notice Yo sneakily hooking Fanboy's cape around his long neck before it's too late. 

Startled, Boog drops a near-unconscious Fanboy to the floor as the cape tightens around his jugular and cuts off his air supply. Gasping, he claws at the soft fabric. His mind goes wild, and all he can think is to get this dweeb off his back. 

Yo uses all of her strength, seething as he coughs and retches. She’s ready to kill Boog if that’s what it takes to escape. Gasping and twitching weakly, Fanboy observes the chaos through blurry vision, silently cheering for Yo. This is the last straw, he thinks. If they don’t escape now, they’ll surely die. 

Boog gasps, his face going red. Fanboy’s heart pounds with hope and excitement. 

Notwithstanding her lack of strength, Yo's assault on this monster seems to be producing results. She thinks she has things under control for an exciting moment, but the sound of the cape ripping steals her back to a grim reality. She yelps and regrips the fabric, but it only tears more. Boog senses this and bucks harder. That’s when things take a turn for the worse. 

Yo grunts in pain, her weedy muscles burning. The fabric of Fanboy’s cape cuts into the grooves of her sweaty fingers as she struggles to hold on. Unfortunately, pure willpower isn’t enough to slay the beast. With a mighty roar, Boog slams back against the wall crushing Yo under his rock-solid weight. The physical trauma causes the girl to loosen her hold, stunned, and drop to the floor right beside Fanboy with a solid thunk. 

No.

Fanboy trembles, crushed by the failure, his mind having difficulty accepting. The plan should have worked. Boog hasn’t _won_ yet again, _has he_? 

Their captor staggers and yanks the satin cape from around his neck.

He has.

Fanboy’s gloved hands twitch at his sides as Yo sits blinking one eye at a time like a braindead frog. It’s over. He inclines his body to rest against hers in a comforting gesture before more pain can befall them. He feels again that this is his fault. She’s strong, but he’s stronger— _he_ should have been the one with his cape around Boog’s throat! But then, that would have left Yo to be the one nearly strangled to death. He doesn’t think he can put her through that; he’s not _that_ selfish. Besides, for what Yo lacks in strength, she makes up for in endurance. It’s impressive that she hung on for as long as she did. Fanboy knows he never could do that. The anguish hits like a truck. What chance they had to escape is gone, and now all they get to look forward to is their inevitable punishment. 

Boog crouches down on one knee, coughing and wiping his mouth as he regains his breath. There is a deep red line circling his neck that is sure to leave a bruise. Fanboy hopes that someone outside will notice and ask questions. After the shock of the attack wears off, Boog growls hard at the cape in his fist. Losing his inhibition, he grabs Fanboy’s collar and drags him forward across the concrete. 

Nose to nose, Boog seethes at him for daring to make him look weak, claims that he knows this was his idea, and warns that if it ever happens again, the punishment will be tenfold. His mind clouded, Fanboy quietly waits as Boog’s breath and spittle hit his face. Technically, this plan was Yo’s idea, but it doesn’t matter. How can they stand a chance against a creature with such brute strength? It’s hopeless. His dwaal, weary stare drifts away from Boog’s livid one as he gives up. 

Boog doesn’t like this listlessness coming from the superfan. He shakes him hard, watches his masked head loll back and forth like a lifeless puppet’s. When he stops, Fanboy’s forehead comes to rest against his forearm. For a terrifying moment, Boog thinks he killed him, but the pulse in Fanboy’s chest tells a different story. Immense relief floods his brain. 

A small whimper draws his attention to the female child.

Slumped against the wall, Yo slowly reemerges from her dizzied state but makes no move to rescue her friend. Maybe she can’t because of her injuries, or perhaps she is simply too afraid of being outmatched again, but either way, she cannot bear it. She just crawls over to their blanket, collapses, and cries. This is all her fault, she thinks. 

For what seems like an eternity, Boog does nothing but stare at his handiwork: Yo is a sobbing wreck, Fanboy is a hollow shell, and both are seriously injured. Aside from the thrill, a flicker of concern kindles in his gut. Perhaps, _just_ this once, he has gone too far. It isn’t impossible—he’s been too rough before with his pets as a child. The hairless mouse he crushed. The hairless hamster he threw. The hairless cat he drowned. Boog bites his lip and slowly lowers the boy, who lays unmoving as if he is dead, not even bothering to join Yo on the blanket.

Boog sighs, his anger slowly draining away as he sits beside his male captive. There is comfort in his tone as he promises that he’ll bring food for them. His giant, bruised, and bloody hand strokes Fanboy’s pitiful face as if he is a small puppy. Fanboy's lip curls as he shies away from the hand that'd injured him just moments before. 

Yo sniffles as Boog sets the youngster down to lay beside her with all the gentility he can muster. She doesn’t dare look up into his baby-blue eyes for fear of a harsher beating. Instead, she curls up next to Fanboy and hides her face under her bruised arms. The man sighs, gives her a small pat on the head, and leaves the room.

Once he’s gone, Yo dizzily gathers Fanboy into her arms. Holding back a shocked gasp at the state of his condition, she nuzzles his forehead and murmurs his name to coax him back from the void. Finally, recognition returns to his face, which scrunches up with despair. His eyes are like dull rainclouds and don't even seem to notice that she’s there. All he can think is that they've failed.

Fanboy painfully moves out of her grip and utters it aloud like a curse. If only he'd been stronger, he could have been a bigger help. If only he were grown up like Boog, he'd knock the man flat! Fanboy looks at her wistfully stroking his hand and sobs, moving to huddle into a somersault position, his masked forehead touching his knees. He wants to curl up and disappear into the floor, let the cold consume him; his guilt is that potent. 

Yo nudges his arm out of the way and squeezes beside him. Ashamed, he makes to pull away, but one compassionate gaze from the girl draws him back. He presses against her and apologizes profusely, wishing he was smart enough to figure a way to get out of this place. Yo nuzzles the side of his face and assures him that he IS smart and NOT to apologize. Cutting off his protests, she promises that they will be okay in the end, that they will get out of here, and they will get a happy ending. It may just take time...

Off to the side, Yo hears Boog’s approaching footsteps. She closes her teary eyes and gently shushes her friend as the door opens. She allows herself a peek and almost gasps.

Boog's eyes are red-rimmed and shiny, proof that he has been crying. Yo quickly buries her face in the crook of Fanboy’s neck instead of engaging, and she lies silent and still.

There’s the soft sounds of a bag rustling, plastic crinkling, glass clinking, and even the occasional sniff from Boog before he vacates. Yo waits until his footsteps fade away before she rolls over to see what he’s done. A savory scent fills her nostrils, and her heart leaps. She gasps and hurriedly pats Fanboy’s shoulder so he’ll look. He does, and he too gasps. Surely, that can’t be --?

FOOD!

The children ignore the pain of their injuries and limp forward with their eyes tearing up with joy and hands outstretching to grab the gifts. When they reach the assortment, they salivate like mad.

Then, a bulb flickers and the room lights up. Boog has left them the lantern, and now they can see it’s a whole platter! There’s a small bowl of strawberries and blueberries, another with hastily-cut fresh apple slices smothered with peanut butter, and yet another dish with goldfish. There are two glasses of ice-cold orange juice and two bottles of water. Best of all, there’s a plate of chicken and two iced-monster bun buns! A regular feast!

Right now, they don’t care why Boog brought them this. Every cell in their bodies wants to vacuum everything whole, but if they’re too fast, the food will come right back up. With that in mind, they painstakingly divide the feast, carry everything to the comforter, and spread it out like a picnic blanket. 

They start with the lighter foods, nibbling and swallowing the fruits as steadily as their sanity allows. The apples are crisp and sweet, the strawberries and blueberries ripe and juicy. It’s a struggle to endure the wait, especially when the rest of the enticing meal is sitting there. Fanboy wants to go for the chicken right away, but Yo reminds him to be diligent. Together they savor every bite of fruit, peanut butter, and goldfish on their makeshift picnic blanket until every last crumb has been swallowed down.

Fanboy’s gloved hand trembles when he takes gulps down the glass of flavorful orange juice, his quivering emerald eyes staring right at the lovely fowl. He looks like he’s about to submit to his stomach’s demands, so Yo watches him mindfully in case she needs to intervene to keep him from getting himself sick. She doesn’t want to be domineering like when she doted after Chum Chum, but if it’s a matter of health, she won’t have a choice.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to do a thing. Fanboy holds himself back with an angel’s patience, salivating as she finishes the last drops of her orange juice. From there, even Yo’s resolve collapses, and they both dig in.

It’s a ravenously consumed meal. Table manners are forgotten, and bones are discarded after they’ve been picked clean. Yo’s sharp teeth tear into the last of crispy chicken and rip it from the bone while Fanboy leans back against the wall and noisily chews the savory, juicy bird meat. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted—even surpassing Frosty Freezy Freeze! 

Last are the iced-monster bun buns. They are scarfed down without a second thought, the sugary sweetness causing their taste buds to sing in rapture. What a feast!

Feeling full and content for the first time since before they arrived here, Fanboy stretches out his arms and lays back on the comforter, legs crossed. He’s grinning, silently chewing on a leg bone as he watches Yo scarf down the last crumbs of her portion. He was a bit sour when she stopped him from gobbling down everything like a wolf, but now that his head is cleared, he understands it was for his own good. His gaze softens as her eyes meet his, and he pretends to stare at the ceiling, carefully shaping the bone with his teeth. He plans to equip it for later.

Yo licks her fingers and sighs with a smile. That was by far the best meal she has ever had in her _life_. Satiety: she hasn’t felt such a thing for months. It’s strange that even now when she’s trapped in a little room with only Fanboy to keep her company, she feels momentary happiness. Maybe it’s the food alone that's causing the dopamine to rush through her brain. Perhaps it’s… She gapes curiously at Fanboy, who’s gnawing relentlessly on a chicken bone perched in his greasy fingers. His eyes are closed, and he’s humming like this is entirely natural, and he does not have a care in the world. There is also a slight smile on his pale face, one of contentedness and peace—she has not seen that expression for a long time. A strange feeling tinges in her chest, but she shakes her head before it can blossom. 

Yo rises and begins to gather the plates. Fanboy opens his eyes, joins her, silently collects the bowls, and stacks them in a neat pile for Boog. It is kind of funny how pristine they look, having been licked clean. Fanboy jokes that they should open a business someday where they lick dishes clean for people. Yo scrunches up her nose and laughs in disbelief, but can't deny how great that sounds right now. He insists, nudging her playfully, that he will do the dirty work while she can attract all the customers by looking cute and then scam them by offering ridiculous prices. Genius! 

Not a chance, Yo argues. She'll do the dirty work, and Fanboy can attract customers by signing and dancing. Fanboy perks at that. He says he can't remember the last time he has danced.

Yo tells him that he can dance whenever he wants, as long as he teaches her how so she can dance _with_ him.

Her offer is odd. Fanboy scoffs and rubs at the back of his neck, a little pink in the face, and Yo grins, sensing his embarrassment.

With a giggle, she asks if he thinks she’s cute.

Fanboy blinks, caught off-guard by the out-of-nowhere question. How can he say she _is_ without sounding like he is in love, or say she _isn’t_ without being gratuitously rude? 

Thankfully, Yo takes pity (subconsciously disappointed) and jests that he doesn’t have to tell her—she knows she’s adorable! Fanboy accepts the mercy with a smile. 

They are both bruised beyond effable. It is silly, Yo reasons, to consider themselves beautiful or handsome. Still, she secretly admits Fanboy can be semi-sorta-kinda-attractive when he chooses to be--shame that he never wants to be. Heh. At least, she would have the guts to say it if she thought it. She blinks. Ahem. It doesn't matter.

Nothing can ruin this moment. The children are happy, their bellies full. Yo yawns and settles onto the blankets. Fanboy lies beside her, and together, they fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

\---

Six months into their imprisonment, the children rest a little easier. Boog is gentle around them again, supplying them with small amounts of food and water, for which they shyly thank him. He reciprocates their thanks with more kindness, and soon, they’re growing optimistic that he'll change his mind about keeping them here. If not, they’ll try to enact another escape plan, but only when they've built up strength, fit enough to fight.

Everything is going alright as it could be, until…

Fanboy makes an informal comment about their disheveled selves. Yo takes a start, wounded, but realizes he’s right. Their sweaty clothes are smelly and wrinkled, their skin is blotchy and grimy, and their greasy hair is beyond tangled. 

To "help," Boog provides them with shampoo and conditioner. The conditioner helps, but without a hairbrush, Yo fears her hair will develop dreadlocks. Fortunately, Fanboy's able to hide _his_ hair under a cowl. Yo hasn't the luxury; her rat's nest is exposed at all times. The only way she can disguise it is by tying them up into her signature pigtails.

Fanboy's a bit startled by her upset. He stresses that he doesn't mean anything by the comment; it's merely an observation. Despite his pledge, the Asian girl gradually becomes self-conscious. She wants her hair back to the way it used to be, among the boatload of other things she wants back to normal.

Her insecurities grow worse until she decides to try to detangle her matted mane herself. Curious, Fanboy sits across from her Indian-style and watches as she undoes her pigtails and tries to comb her fingers through the strands. Her fingers catch the knots immediately, and she winces at the tinge of pain. It's uncomfortable, but she’s determined to succeed.

After twenty minutes, she has grown frustrated by the lack of progress.

Fanboy recoils when she yanks the tangles. It makes him want to avoid his own hair when he sees how much pain Yo's is causing. When she rubs at her eyes to hide her tears of frustration, he timidly suggests that she ask Boog for a hairbrush. Yo scoffs, but since Boog has been growing kinder, she resolves to the idea. For hours she rehearses her question for Boog, practicing and roleplaying with Fanboy. 

Later, Boog brings them breakfast: two bowls of dry cereal, two cups of milk, and two powdered donuts. The children gratefully accept the meal and obediently take their places on either side of the man. They're learning to obey to receive their necessities. They need to be careful lest they fall victim to his fickle violent tendencies. 

Boog, for whatever reason, likes to watch them interact. Sometimes he’ll sit in the room for long periods just watching them play or nap. When they lie next to each other to relax, he’ll pat the tops of their heads like they’re his cats. They never grow accustomed to it but can at least keep their food down when he makes contact with them. 

After she swallows the last of her donut, Yo tries to stay relaxed when she casually asks for a hairbrush. 

A flicker of sentiment flashes over Boog's face. He always ignores their requests and insists that one bath per week is enough to sustain their hygiene. The only time he has ever made accommodations were for their dental regimen, allowing them toothbrushes and a bottle of mint toothpaste, but only because he doesn't want their teeth to rot out and cause a whole tirade of other issues. 

The children hold their breath. Boog stares straight ahead, prompting Yo to bravely ask again. Fanboy supportively chimes in, gently tugging on their captor's shirt-sleeve and explaining why she needs one. 

Boog eyes Yo's hair and brushes his fingers against the knots. Yo tries not to flinch.

Abruptly, the man rises and exits the room, leaving the youngsters to slump in defeat. Yo growls in disappointment and grabs at her clumped, greasy pigtails. How she wishes they could retain their silky softness. 

Fanboy sighs resignedly and swallows down the last of his cereal. Tangled hair is a small quandary, and he's too tired to fret. Instead of worrying, he tries to relax and go back to sleep. He welcomes Yo to join him, and although she is sulky, she accepts the invite and snuggles up beside him. He assures her that it doesn’t matter what her hair looks like. It could be much worse. Like, lice. She half-heartedly agrees.

Just before they drift off to sleep, the door creaks open. Startled, the children quickly sit up to acknowledge their captor, a bit disconcerted as to why he has returned so soon. Yo rubs her eyes excitedly, thinking that Boog has come with a comb until Fanboy grabs at her arm in a panic.

Boog is standing glassy-eyed in the doorway with large rusty garden shears in his hand. He tilts the blades to catch the light. It takes a moment for the children to register the tool, but when they do, chaos ensues.

Despite their best efforts to evade him, they can’t get far in the tiny room. Boog quickly snatches them up in his big arms and tears them apart from one another. He grips Yo like a vice and tosses Fanboy aside like trash.

Forget niceties. The boy retaliates by hitting the man as hard as he can, but the feeble assault barely makes a dent. If anything, Boog finds it amusing that such a small person can even think to usurp his dominance.

Tethered by her pigtails, Yo quakes with fear and whimpers to be let go. Fanboy tries to help by pulling at Boog's fingers, but the man elbows the poor boy in the chest, sending him to slam back onto the floor with a sharp cracking sound. Stunned, Fanboy lies there on his back, blinking dizzily at the ceiling.

Yo begins to cry, tears running down her blotchy, terrified face. She pleads for Boog to release her so she can help her friend, but she's arguing with an impassive wall. Boog opens the shears with a rusty creak by her head, and Yo screams, believing in her heart that she will be killed right then and there.

Boog slices through the base of Yo's pigtails and pulls them away from her scalp. Dislodged, the girl flies forward and crumples to her knees on the concrete. She scrambles back against the wall and watches Boog cackle with her beautiful black locks in hand. Fanboy, having just recovered from his earlier shock, watches Boog toss the pigtails to the floor. Staggered, Yo tentatively reaches out and brushes the hairs. 

Fanboy can't believe she’s still alive.

Boog revels in Yo's dismay. She squeals when he yanks her back by the roots and deracinates chunks out of her scalp. All with his bare hands! Horrified, Fanboy vaults forth and sinks his sharp teeth deep into Boog's muscular flesh. Caught off guard, Boog releases the injured girl to turn his attention to the boy. 

Yo falls to her hands and knees, eyes wild and unfocused. Her breath quickens. Run? Hide? Cry? She… She doesn’t know. She can’t think. All she knows is fear. Fear and pain.

Boog pries Fanboy off of his arm, bopping him to ward off a second gnathic attack. Blood spurts from Fanboy's bruised nose. A strike like that should have flattened him, but his adrenaline rush shrugs off the pain, making him temporarily invincible.

Yo is anything but. Shaking like a leaf, she throws back her head and releases a bone-chilling scream of pain and anguish. The sound is horrible, like the wailing of an unknown animal--neither Boog nor Fanboy have ever heard anything like it before. While the man watches ensorcelled, the boy covers his ears and retreats to a corner.

Yo stares up at nothing, her choppy bangs falling like a curtain over her wide, crazed eyes, before she curls in on herself on the hard concrete floor. Rubbing at the broad bloody bite mark on his arm, Boog relishes the spectacle with the amusement an owner has while watching their puppy whine over something trivial. 

Disturbed, Fanboy tries to calm her from his corner, but she’s too far gone to even register his voice. Hyperventilating, she empties her bladder there on the floor and writhes in agony. She cries out for her loved ones, hysterically begging Boog to let her go home, but of course, Boog refuses. 

Fanboy's stomach lurches, her wails fueling his grief. He faces the corner, covers his ear, licks at his bloody lip, and hums. 

Satisfied, Boog leaves the unpleasant scene behind.

An _hour_ later, Yo's screams dwindle to small cries. They wrack her frail body, and she has nearly managed to break a rib or two in her fit. Mute, Fanboy slowly uncovers his ears and crawls to where she's curled up into a ball. Hesitantly, he brushes his gloved hand against her shoulder. She furiously wrenches away from his touch, and a club of guilt slams into his chest, making it hard to breathe. It’s his fault that she’s hyperventilating and convulsing on the floor like a lunatic, at least, that's what he believes, tears welling up in his eye. If he hadn't suggested for her to ask Boog for a brush--no. If he hadn't made that _stupid_ comment about their appearances, she probably wouldn't have felt the need to do something about her hair in the first place.

Fanboy needs to do something; he can't just ignore the miserable mess he has left her in.

Ignoring the smell of urine, Fanboy succumbs to the urge to protect her. He can't spare her from Boog's clutches, but he _can_ provide some comfort. Cooing softly, he rests beside her and rubs her blotchy, tear-painted face against his with all the assurance he can muster. She allows it this time. He wraps his arms around her and presses his cheek to her forehead.

She hiccups and opens her red runny eyes to stare at nothing, utterly destroyed. Fanboy's heart hammers, but he maintains a calm demeanor and promises that she’s just as pretty as before. With short hair, maybe even more so. He admits to her then that yes, he thinks she’s cute. Her bloodshot eyes dart to his, crazed.

Fanboy hooks under her armpits and drags her to the comforter. Yo allows it, becoming limp and pliant in his skinny arms. Fanboy tucks her head beneath his chin. She winces in distress; there are rust-colored patches on her scalp from where Boog has ripped her hair from the roots, so Fanboy adjusts his hold, and the two bask in each other's warmth.

Yo's shining spirit is fractured, and her weak body is drained of energy. Her head smarts with pain. It doesn't take long for her to quiet. Sighing hoarsely, she touches Fanboy's pale cheek with her fingertips and wipes at the blood under his nose. She gives him an empty smile and presses their foreheads together. Fanboy breathes a sigh of relief and shuts his eyes.

He knows in his heart that she doesn’t blame him, and despite their pain and vulnerability, they can count on each other for help.


	4. Sickness and Boredom

Optimism is Yo’s intrepid ol’ cousin, guiding her through surfs of peril and buttressing her desire, desire that she shall soon be out of this room and into the sweet sunshine. Just now, she can almost hear the singing of birds, soft and quaint. Then, she awakens, remembers where she is, and her old cousin makes his quick departure. Broken by fist, Yo’s clutch is not so strong, and her optimism begins to slip hence and disappear into the shadows to join the dark, her bane, her predator. 

Boog’s high leaves him satiated for a while, relieving his captives of further torment. Moreover, even he recognizes when his captives need rest, need to prepare themselves for the next visit. He waits patiently, observing closely the girl he’d hurt beyond recognition. Her pale face often blotches with tears, her once beautiful blue eyes dulled and dead. He continues to wait, and after thirty-one days, Yo’s psychological burnout prevails like a weed. Paired with severe stress and sleep deprivation, the trauma Boog has caused her overwhelms all her formerly sound mental faculties. Absent is her hope to escape, vanished has her motivation. She opts to lie still and stare blankly into the void. Conversation with Fanboy is virtually impossible, as is exercise, as she is too weak for either.

Fanboy hovers above worriedly, waving a gloved hand over her dead eyes, hoping foolishly that she’ll overcome this curse and come back to herself. She does no such thing, the effects of trauma too deep and buried, her heart and mind too cracked for Fanboy to understand, try as he might.

Determined to compensate for the situation he believes is his fault, Fanboy spends his energy caring for her. Notwithstanding her lack of communication, Fanboy easily falls into the role of an optimist. He talks to her constantly, even singing on some occasions, determined to fill the silent void with his own words. Fanboy hopes Yo is listening. She doesn’t move, nor give any inclination that she will, but her classmate makes an effort to lay close and whisper into her ear all that he can think of: hopes, of course, dreams, Agent 8 episodes, and although only his laugh fills in the air, jokes, and puns.

Fanboy wipes a rare tear of laughter from his eye, giving a false content sigh as he lays beside Yo. Strangely, her silence makes him feel safe enough to delve into more personal stories. Stories of his past, his relationship with Chum Chum, and his family. His family… Fanboy only knows what he has been told about his absent mother, his absent father, his distant cousins, aunts, and uncles, and feels a great emptiness where happy memories should have been preserved. Oh, how he wishes he could see them, to be swept up into a group hug jam-packed with warmth and love. Bar, he hasn’t ever felt a familial hold, not paternal nor maternal. All he has ever felt was the love of friendship. The friendship with Chum Chum he holds dearest to his heart. To him, Chum Chum IS that familial hold, that foundational support grounded by no other.

Fanboy sighs and bumps Yo’s shoulder with his own. He supposes he should feel sad having never met his mother and father, but how is he to feel sad about something or someone he has never had? If it is possible to feel a pang of great sadness for nothingness, Fanboy hasn’t the knack. He asks Yo this, quietly, curiously. No answer, as he expects, but he tries to fill the blanks in as if she weren’t mute. He questions himself, and answers in a poor imitation of Chum Chum’s voice. Over and over and over, he does this. If Yo is listening, Fanboy muses, she must think him mad.

Oh, well. This IS comforting, and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine Chum Chum there with him, though he’d much rather enjoy the company of solid figures, a real playdate. He’s prepared to wait for such an occasion forever if need be, his young mind unable to comprehend such a long period of time. For that, he feels a great responsibility to remain healthy and functional. When his lids get heavy, Fanboy settles down beside Yo and snuggles her, rubbing heat into her arms and whispering words of comfort into her ear. He assures that everything will be okay and that she needs to be strong. It is unclear whether or not his words make a difference, but he likes to imagine they do.

When Boog visits with a rare meal, Fanboy wraps Yo up into a little cocoon so that he may deal with their captor alone. It's a risk he is willing to take. He will not allow this man to inflict any more damage on Yo, not if he can help it. Curious, Boog reaches out to touch the blanket. Fanboy will not allow it, draping himself over her as a human shield. He knows that Boog is less willing to beat him, due to his fragility. Yo's unwillingness irritates Boog, but he's rather charmed by Fanboy's protective nature and decides to be patient. 

Fanboy's mouth waters as Boog sets the plate down. A bunch of club crackers, hard-boiled egg slices, and a bundle of green grapes. He wants nothing more than to gobble it up for himself, but Yo's his number one priority. The trauma has left her severely depressed; she doesn't even make an effort to eat on her own anymore. 

After Boog leaves, Fanboy gently unwraps Yo and coaxes a portion of egg down her throat. Her lips just barely move to accept it. Fanboy's willing to give up his share, something Yo would have stopped if she were in the right mindset. As she shifts her blank eyes, Fanboy smiles and proceeds to make as many egg-puns as possible, trying to make her laugh. 

Yo's lips twitch, and Fanboy considers that a win. He pushes the last bit of food down her throat and smiles faintly as he gathers up the empty plate, his legs trembling beneath his slight weight. He hasn't touched a crumb in...days? Hours? Fanboy isn't sure how long he has been fasting, but taking his depleting health into account, it must be long enough. 

All at once, the air goes from chilly to near freezing. Thinking quickly, Fanboy offers her the comforter, wraps his ripped cape around his shoulders, and paces the room to keep warm.

Boog appears a while later to fill up the metal basin. Yo slumps in the water and rests her forehead on the rim while Fanboy scrubs himself and her clean with a new bar of soap. She allows it, too mentally exhausted to take care of herself. Besides, it feels nice to have someone scrubbing her scalp. After that, Fanboy takes their clothes to the tub and washes them before hanging them over the rim.

The captives sit in the basin until their clothes are semi-dry. Fanboy briskly redresses and dives beneath the blankets to preserve the heat. 

Yo stays put, stretching out her legs to rest her toes on the other end of the basin. Her jagged, uneven locks billow out as she slides beneath the water, warmth cuddling at every inch of her being. Closing her eyes, Yo imagines she is a baby bird curled up in a little egg, safe and warm. She hears nothing but the muffled clunks of her feet hitting the tub's metal sides. 

Yo exhales through her nose, air bubbles wiggling to the surface. Her thoughts don't make much sense. She understands that she and Fanboy are in constant danger and need to escape pronto, but she can't bring herself to _endeavor_ anymore. Yo lifts her head above the water to get a small breath of air before plunging back in. A small, crushed part of her is screaming, coveting for freedom, but her body and mind are unable to cooperate. 

It's selfish, she thinks. Poor Fanboy might as well be on his own, what with his "lump-on-a-log" cellmate. At least, she reasons, he seems to be doing alright without her so far. Perhaps he needn't her at all. Maybe... 

A dangerous thought enters her mind: I wanna d--

_NO_.

Yo's tears mingle with the water as she actively pushes that idea from the forefront of her mind and forces it to the back. Talk about selfish, she thinks, how can she even think about...? Fanboy would be...

Yo sniffs, accidentally inhaling water up her nose. The sudden pain snaps her out of her thoughts, and she bursts from the water, coughing, and holding her nose. The cold air attacks her mercilessly, and she finally decides to get out on her own.

Drying herself as quickly as she can, Yo dresses and joins Fanboy beneath the covers. He embraces her, warming her instantly. It's then when she notices just how dangerously thin he has become. Despite the alarm, she doesn't dwell on it; they're both famished, after all. Instead, she focuses on the warmth of his hug and embraces him back. 

Fanboy makes a victorious sound and squeezes her tight--she's finally responsive.

\---

A few weeks later, Yo is doing much better, and it's all thanks to Fanboy. She's eating on her own and speaking with her diminishing friend, for whom she is now VERY concerned. He has become a ghost of his former self, whisper-thin, gaunt, and a sickly-pale. His working eye has gone dull, and he is unable to move around very long before succumbing to exhaustion.

Yo adjusts the lantern Boog has left them and thinks hard. Fanboy's frailty _must_ be the consequence of the last few weeks. With that in mind, Yo demands that he eats. Fanboy takes one look at their latest meal and goes green, unable to bear even the thought of forcing it down. Yo tries to feed him herself, but Fanboy physically refuses it, turning his head away and covering his mouth with his skeletal fingers, which tremble beneath his gloves.

Poor Yo doesn't understand why he won't eat. What kind of state of starvation must he be in to refuse food? Is that even possible? Close to tears, Yo pulls her friend into a gentle hug, stroking the back of his head. She's astonished at how small and frail he feels--how cold! He slumps against her, shivering and exhausted. Yo can feel his bones beneath her fingertips as her hand trails down his spine.

This can't go on; Fanboy needs to eat! But how can she force him to? Perhaps he will be willing to give it another go after a short nap. He has earned it, and Yo tells him that as she cuddles against him to provide warmth. Not long after, Fanboy finally passes out. Yo takes his hands into hers and holds them to her chest as she too falls asleep.

Yo is jostled awake shortly by Fanboy's convulses. Startled, she sits up, turns on the lantern, and prepares to scold him, but stops fast. His face has gone chalk-white, and his nose and ears are bright red. Yo's heart goes cold. Carefully, she rests her palm against his masked forehead and jerks back at the heat. Then, she slips her cold fingers beneath the mask's seam, and it harbors the same result.

Fever.

Yo gazes worriedly into Fanboy's working, bloodshot eye and whispers his name. His eyes blink one at a time as he slurs her name, semi-delirious and falling in and out of a state of lucid dreaming. Yo clasps her hands together and looks around helplessly.

Without medicine, the only thing Yo can do is wait for Boog's return--something she dreads, but she must hope for--for Fanboy's sake.

As the day goes on, Fanboy's condition continues to deteriorate. At one point, he mistakes Yo for Chum Chum and tries to tuck her beneath his arm to pet her hair, overjoyed to have found his "sidekick." She allows it, turning her back and making sure to keep her distance from his runny orifices. It makes her so unhappy, conceding the pain he must be in to be separated from his other half and feeding into a delusion. She feels guilty that she can't provide him the same things Chum Chum could. It almost feels like commensalism. 

When she sits up to use the commode, he falls into another fit. Extramundane, he grips his head and asks why he can't remember Chum Chum's voice, the color of his own eyes, or the taste of Frosty Freezy Freeze. Yo covers her ears and grits her teeth. She doesn't want to think about that.

After she finishes her business, she wraps Fanboy up in all the blankets. He shivers and asks for water, but of course, she can't get him that right now. Instead, she strokes his gloved hand and whispers that they'll be home soon. He just needs to relax and go to sleep before his carsickness gets worse. Fanboy accepts this in his infirmity and stops crying after a minute or two. Relieved, Yo curls up next to him on the cold concrete to wait out his illness.

When she opens her eyes, hours have passed. Fanboy has left the comforter and is leaning over the commode, nauseous and cold. Yo rubs his back until he finishes dry-heaving before leading him back to "bed." She squeezes his hands between her own to quell his shivering but to no avail. He needs medicine.

Yo is surprised they haven't gotten sick sooner with the horrible conditions of their living space. She can only imagine the smell and wonders if Boog will clean it or allow them to deterge it themselves. The extreme levels of stress and grief can't help either. 

Finally, finally, FINALLY, the tell-tale footsteps of their captor reach Yo's ears. Boog opens the door and walks in, his smug grin dropping as he sees Fanboy's condition. He locks eyes with Yo, who hunches over and whimpers. Without a word, he leaves and returns a few minutes later with small orange bottles of pills. Sensing his good intentions, Yo releases Fanboy from her hold without a fight. 

Boog gently gathers up Fanboy in his arms and tenderly coaxes the pills down his hoarse throat. Because of Fanboy's swollen throat, deglutition is laborious and slow, but Boog gently tilts a glass of warmed water into his mouth to help the process.

Sitting in a cold corner, Yo is astounded. She has witnessed Boog's paternalistic capability, but its sharp rebound after her brutal torment is mystifying. Fanboy moans in his sleep and nuzzles against Boog, who smiles softly. He wraps Fanboy up in a new, clean blanket. After that, he brings in two glasses of ice water to drink and two extra helpings of food for them to eat. 

Yo forehandedly accepts all of it with a nervous half-smile. Boog smiles back and gently pats her on the head, causing her insides to go cold. She supposes she hasn't recovered from her break, and perhaps she never will. Taking care of them like this, it's clear that Boog doesn't want them dead, so what _does_ he want? Yo frowns into her glass, staring at her dim reflection. He has kept them here for so long that she doesn't look like how she remembers. The reflection staring back at her has dull eyes, hollow cheeks, and black, greasy hair stuck in all directions. She thinks about what Fanboy insists—she's still pretty—and looks away from the ugly thing in the glass before her emotions get the better of her. 

Yo is given an extra blanket to sleep on because Fanboy is using the others. She accepts it and tries to not get annoyed at her friend. After all, it isn't _his_ fault he's sick, and she's relieved he's finally being taken care of properly. She yawns, snuggling into the Chimp-Chomp-themed cover and falling asleep to the sound of her friend's congested snores.

In a matter of days, after careful monitoring from their captor, Fanboy regains his senses, and defervesce occurs. There's a weird moment where he has forgotten their situation and panics. Thankfully, Yo is there to calm him down and jog his memory. Fanboy slowly gains awareness and grows sullen at their predicament, but then, he turns to Yo with the sincerest expression he's ever worn. 

Without warning, he wraps his skinny arms around her neck, squeezing tight and whispering gracious thanks. Perplexed, she returns the embrace, wondering what she could have done to warrant this behavior, especially when he gently kisses the corner of her mouth.

Whoa. Yo stills, her heart thudding as he pulls back. He gazes conflictedly at her. For a moment, all is still, but then he's beaming at her, hugging her, kissing her cheek, practically _showering_ her with affection, and she can't understand _why_. Is he still delirious? She swallows hard and presses her hands against his chest to interrupt.

She asks him, her voice wavering, why.

Fanboy considers her baffled expression. Then, he gently takes her hand and strokes it, not unlike how she had when he was sick. With tears welling in his eyes, he tells her about his fever-induced nightmares, how in his sickness he thought she had died, abandoning him here, and vice-versa. Boog could have killed him. He pauses, and Yo nervously waits for him to go on.

Finally, Fanboy thanks her for being there with him, even if she hasn't a choice. Without her, he would have died. Yo smiles. Seven months of isolation have changed who they are; there is no denying it. When before they tolerated each other at best, now they have essentially become each other's worlds. 

Yo understands now. She squeezes his hand, heart fluttering as she leans in to give him a soft peck on the cheek. They blush hard, and she promises that she will stay with him no matter what. 

He's still shaky and weak, so she gently ushers him back under the covers to rest until he makes a full recovery. Fanboy gives a rare giggle and insists he's fine, but obeys anyway, falling asleep feeling giddy.

...

Nine months pass, but Fanboy and Yo have no way of knowing because time loses all meaning in this dark room. Boog has switched back to barely feeding them; his paternal care, once again, gone. What caused the switch, the children don't know.

They down the water like wild men but slowly chew the food to degust every last morsel. Boog notices their developing apathy but does nothing to help. After every time he leaves, Fanboy marches over to the door and kicks it with all his might—an act of defiance. Boog doesn't seem to mind because he doesn't come back to beat him, and it becomes routine.

With little to no stimulation, the children become depressed, aching for the little things they used to take for granted. The heat of the sun and the chill of the wind. The giant blue skies and fluffy white clouds. The squeals of seagulls, the laughter of their friends, radio jingles. The scent of asphalt, flowers, and mint. The feeling of soft grass and fur. The sweetness of candy, the savoriness of steak, the chilliness of Frosty Freezy Freeze, the crunchiness of sugary cereal, and the chewiness of bubblegum. 

For all these, they crave like mad, but it's out of their reach, and Boog won't give it to them when they work up the courage to ask.

Boredom is worse than physical pain, Yo rules. Bruises heal, but boredom latches at the mind and eats away at it like a parasite. They resist the powder keg within them by chatting, but topics run short, and the past is too painful to talk about. On top of that, they are continually edging towards dehydration. They aren't sure how badly, but talking aloud certainly gives them dry mouths. 

They make an admission to doze as much as possible to futz, napping in small sporadic intervals curled up together. When neither of them can sleep another wink, they pace in circles to exercise their atrophied muscles. 

When they aren't exhausted, they try tag, which is fun until someone trips over the commode and falls flat on their face. After cleaning up the nose blood with toilet paper, they settle down to play word games: 20-Questions, Would-You-Rather?, Truth or Dare, the ABC game, Rock-Paper-Scissors, and many more until they lose their voices. When they're stuck silent, they lay supine and stare at the ceiling side by side. Fanboy scathingly comments about the metricity of their living quarters, to which Yo bitterly shrugs.

She likes to count the fissures. So far, she has marked 278 on the left half. Only a million more to go, she sniffs dryly. Fanboy takes advantage of the dim lighting to try and make pictures of the bare ceiling's cracks. A duck on the left, a cat on the right, the Battle of the Bulge in the center... Sometimes, the shapes in the ceiling move. That frightens the boy, and he turns over to lay on his side when it happens more than once. 

\---

Ten months have passed, and Boog has taken the lantern back. Blind, the children swallow their pride and ask Boog to provide them with entertainment. They don't expect him to listen, but he brings back a giant coloring book and crayons. Surprised, they accept the gifts and give their thanks. After the villain leaves, Fanboy wonders aloud why he had these items. Yo suspects that he was waiting for them to ask. 

Then, it occurs that they can't color in the darkness. 

Fanboy snarls and bashes his forehead into the door. Yo is shocked but quickly collects herself to drag him away from the door before he can hurt himself further. Jarred, she shakes him by the shoulders and interrogates him for a reason behind his actions. He just shrugs, his emerald eyes dismal.

Before she can ask again, a muffled laugh from the other side of the door captures her attention. Hastened, she seizes a startled Fanboy and whispers that Boog is listening. Curious, the superfan quiets down and strains his ears to listen. Sure enough, he hears the faint sound of cackling. He feels bile creep up his throat while Yo curses their captor's name under her breath.

Boogregard Dolomite Schlizetti is likened to a monster, cruel as he is. At nineteen years of age, he stands at 6'5 and weighs just over 175 lbs of ripped muscle. He's as mean as a cat, sly as a fox, brawny as a bull, and sharp as a tack. His obsession with dominance is demonstrated in everything he does. He holds the absolute power he has over the children with the ferocity of a hungry cat pinning a mouse.

He is quite thrilled that he's managed to pull off this scheme without anyone in town knowing tit for tat. He's sneakier than what people give him credit for. Behind his loud, boisterous front lies a poised snake ready to strike. Nobody pegs him as a smart person, so to have snatched these two children out from everyone's noses gives him such a thrill. His chest swells with hubris, and he is motivated to express himself accordingly. He does have to be careful not to gasconade. One mistake could mean a world of trouble.

In reality, Boog is a weak person with little self-confidence, a regular meacock.

The children are proud, stubborn, and spend every waking moment plotting to escape. They can outsmart him if he isn't careful. However, what Boog lacks in care, he makes up for in strength. He can allow for slip-ups, but there will be trouble if they ever manage to outwit him.

In the beginning, he endeavors to assert his paternal authority over them. He's gentle, speaks softly, and handles them with the tender care that he never exhibits outside the room. His goal is for them to yield under his control, but to his frustration, they resist. After many months of asserting his dominance in a gentle manner, he slowly gives up his parental role. The children remain weak but spirited. This infuriates Boog. He can't fathom the reason why they aren't compliant. The book he reads suggests that children respond better to positive reinforcement, so he doesn't know what he's doing wrong. Listening to them giggle and play when they think he's absent discourages him because they won't ever exhibit behavior like that when he's present. Instead, they clam up and clutch each other for protection, staring at him like he's a beast preparing to gobble them up.

In his sickness, Boog truly can't comprehend how disgusting his treatment of Fanboy and Yo is. He stares down at his fists, slowly furling and unfurling them. He has always been panurgic of drawing reactions from people with pain. Why doesn't affection work? 

The question eats at his mind, all day every day until finally, he gives up. This is the last straw. He has wanted to try something different, but failure steers him back to what he knows best. Hearing them laugh at each other, Boog feels betrayed, his disturbed mind clouding over.

The man clenches his giant fists so hard that his knuckles turn white. He vows to cast aside his restraint and inflict the worst possible pain he can onto his prisoners. His head lowers as he opens up the door. Just as he suspected, all merriment stops as soon as he arrives.

Fanboy and Yo scoot away until their backs hit the wall, their arms wrapped around each other. Boog says nothing. He shuts the door behind him, shrouding the room in darkness once again. Inhaling through his nose, he snatches the children before they can wriggle away.

Inspired by how the stray dogs in town assert dominance, Boog smashes their weak bodies against the floor and pins them down by their throats. He swallows thickly as they writhe beneath him. He wills for them to submit and be still, but their struggle intensifies. His eyes blaze, his lips curling back into a snarl as his grip tightens. Fanboy lets out a little gasp, and Yo squeaks, panicking as their air supplies are cut off. They thrash harder still; submitting is the last thing on their minds as they fight to breathe.

It's sheer luck that he lets them go before they run out of air because he can't see their lips turning blue in the dark. He sits on their backs, gritting his teeth while they gulp in tremendous peals of air. Out of habit, their hands slowly entwine beneath his domineering glare, as if to drive his failure deeper.

Beatings aren't enough. He leaves them to slowly regain their senses, and he thinks hard about what to do next, becoming enthralled with mental torture. He wants to see them dissolve from happy, bright kids to sullen, miserable lumps right before his eyes. It is a never-ending fascination that resonates with something tragic in his mind. He doesn't want to separate them; they would never survive without their partner, but he has other methods to experiment with.

Curious to see how they would react, he turns off ALL of the lights outside the rawky room. Abandoned to suffer in pitch blackness, the recovering pair can't see _anything_ and have no choice but to interact solely through sound and touch. Without vision, they develop paranoia and clutch each other for security, enduring numerous fits of anxiety together. They insulate themselves in the blankets for consolation, but even that isn't enough to stifle their deteriorating stability. 

Yo is certain that Fanboy screamed for a full hour into the gloom until his voice gave out. 

Fanboy is sure that Yo tore at the skin of her arms until she bled.

Boog limits his interaction with them as much as possible, shoving meals through the slot instead of strolling in personally. He doesn't see nor speak to them in any shape or form. They don't mind that, but the darkness is too much.

After a few days of this, their nerves DO eventually settle. It helps that their eyes can see clearer having gotten used to the darkness. They take advantage of this new superpower. Taking out their coloring book and crayons, they get busy. 

Fanboy colors the right pages, and Yo colors the left ones. He rarely stays inside the lines, scribbling madly, while she colors with surgical concinnity. They snort and laugh at each other's styles in a lighthearted, almost flirtatious moment, each claiming to be the better artist. Things playfully escalate from there when Yo pounces on Fanboy, and they wrestle on the floor, laughing and making a loud ruckus until--

The light from outside turns on.

Boog opens the door without warning, and light floods in. They freeze and shield their sensitive orbs by burying their faces in each other's napes. The man observes them for a moment with a peculiar look in his eyes while they try to catch their breaths. With a small smirk, he sits and motions for them to continue. They don't move. Fanboy holds onto Yo as tight as he can, staring at their captor with distrust. 

Boog sighs and smooths his highlighted hair back. He thinks that perhaps they'll comply if he explains what he's looking for. From then, he provides a lengthy explanation as to why he likes to watch them play, using big scientific words that sound bizarre coming out of his mouth.

The children are confused by specifics, feeling that this might be above their age group. Despite their ignorance, they understand that something seriously sinister is going through their captor's mind. 

Boog smiled faintly and looks off to the side. He says he's happy that they get along so well, that he had made such a great decision in choosing _them_ and not the others, and that their compatibility will be excellent for when they grow older. 

Fanboy's cautious, but Yo is tempted to speak up. She asks why it matters to Boog why they get along. He smiles at them, a gleam of pride shining in his eyes. He doesn't give a direct answer. He just says that it'll all happen naturally and he needn't intervene for that. Yo looks up to Fanboy for help, but he looks just as lost.

Boog chuckles and moves over to pat the tops of their heads. He tells them that despite the bumps in the road, he's happy with them. They can't believe it and flinch under his touch. Impressively, they manage to remain calm until Boog leaves them alone again.

The event sticks with Fanboy and Yo for several days after it occurs, and during that time, they opt to keep their distance from one another. It doesn't last long, and soon they're clinging to each other again.

For the time being, their adapted vision means they can read the folders that have laid on the ground since day one. All these months, they have avoided them, out of fear and caution.

At first, Fanboy and Yo are excited, but what they find is nothing short of unsettling. The folders are filled with photos…of them. At the park, at school, walking down the road, individually or together. Chum Chum has been crudely cut out of many of the ones with Fanboy, he points out with a disappointed sigh. Other pictures are of Boog as a child, smiling miserably in that plastic bubble of his. Two additional copies of that same picture have Fanboy and Yo's faces plastered over Boog's.

When Boog was a child, his severe allergies meant total isolation. He couldn't go out and play, nor could he eat most foods or drink most liquids. All he had was Chimp Chomp, the game he grew obsessed with. Confined to his plastic prison, Boog's hate kindled and grew into an inferno by the time he was an adult. He beat anyone he could get his hands on, was socially inept, and talked to Chimp Chomp the game as if it were a person, calling it his "baby." In his sickness, Boog was convinced that it was real and loved him back. 

Speculating his past, Fanboy and Yo wonder. Is Boog trying to recreate his childhood for them? Is keeping them isolated, feeding them a narrow menu, and beating them ways of reconciling with his past? Is it revenge? A coping mechanism? They are uncertain. Whatever the reason, he is sick, and they need to get away before he beats them to death.

Revolted, they silently stack the folders in a corner and try not to think about it.

Later, Yo's eyes open to Boog's silhouette standing in the doorway. Her heart pounds as he enters and shuts the door behind him, leaving them in the pitch-black. Fanboy's breathing remains calm and even--he's still asleep. Yo's adapted eyes stare hard at the man, and she shrinks in fear. The glazed look has returned. He stares at the folders they've stacked in the corner, his hands slowly clenching into fists. Yo watches him pick up the envelopes and quietly haul them out. She waits for a long time, but he doesn't return to beat them. She shudders and snuggles back into the blanket, concentrating on the steady breathing of her prison mate.

…

Three months later, they reach the end of their first year in captivity. They miss birthdays, Icemas, Tanksgiving, All Saint's Day, Halloween, Leprechaun Day, and goodness knows what else. It's especially dismaying when they can't even pinpoint what time of the year it is. 

They guess what days correspond to which holiday and celebrate in their way.

For birthdays, Fanboy chooses a random time to celebrate turning twelve, as does Yo, because her birthday comes a month after his. They sing birthday songs, eat imaginary cake, play games, make fun of each other, and have a genuinely good time even if they have nothing.

For Tanksgiving, they get stuck at what they're "tankful" for. At first, it seems as if they have nothing, but then they remember that they have each other. They cheer to that and scarf down imaginary Thurkey. 

For Icemas, they try to give each other gifts. Fanboy gives Yo a huge hug and a supply of club crackers he'd managed to stash. She gives him a full kiss on the lips, to which he backs away after a few seconds, and they crack up about how gross it was. Boog doesn't know it's Icemas for them, but he gifts them a daily dose of Vitamin Fist anyway.

Prank Day is a holiday Yo's itching to participate in, and Fanboy dreads it more than ever. At least there isn't anything in this room she can use to prank him,

In the long hours of the wake, they get a little better at communicating with each other. In the months before, silence would make them antsy, but now they use the time when it's quiet to lay side by side and just daydream.

In one of their many conversations, Yo voices her worry about their education. She wonders what school will be like after they've missed so many criteria. It's an idea that stresses her out quite a bit. The thought of missing school doesn't bother Fanboy as much; he isn't a scholar. He mostly worries about Chum Chum, about who is taking care of him, about if he's eating properly and getting proper sleep. He vents this to Yo, who reminds him that Chum Chum is super smart, fully capable of taking care of himself.

He thinks about that and relaxes. Yo understands that it's not the best reassurance, but that's all she has. After a quiet hour of pacing to exercise their nonexistent muscles, Fanboy asks her how much time she thinks has passed. She contemplates and looks down at herself. She rationalizes that she hasn't grown that much, so they probably haven't been here that long. A few months, she guesses. They shouldn't be here much longer. Until they're rescued, she grins, he can teach her how to dance.


	5. But in The End

**Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, for your support. I know living in isolation may seem bleak, but try to set a good example by staying positive and kind to others around you!**

\---

_Chapter Five: But in The End_

Fanboy wants to release the pent-up energy he's built for years, to express himself when words are ineffective, to prove his determination and passionate fire in the face of great adversity. Of course, life is no stage-play, and despite being teased by the other boys, he and Chum Chum bonded with each other in rhythmic harmony, showing off at school dances and ranking high above the populace. They used to.

No longer can Fanboy find it in himself to dance. The complete lack of music dampens his spirit, the only rhythmic noises in his life are the familiar 'plink' of water droplets and the hum of the generator. Even his voice, something he took great pride in, is a poor substitute for what he used to listen to on the radio. What is the most incriminating, however, is the lack of a chummy sidekick. Instead of dancing, pacing complements his endlessly somber mood.

Yo's on the same page, distressed that beloved lyrics are slipping from her mind like buttery stones. For her, life without music is like a night without crickets singing, a morning without birds chirping, and a storm without thunder. Music's an emotion that connects them to the outside world. Stripped of it, another chunk of Fanboy's identity is torn from his soul. Unfortunately, souls tend to mend in crooked ways, but Yo offers her light, a small request that Fanboy can't refuse. 

_Teach her to dance._

It turns out all he needed was a little encouragement. Fanboy considers their limited surroundings and decides to start with something simple: a slow dance, which doesn't require much space or safety mats to perform. He chooses the center of the room to begin, a kaleidoscope of excited butterflies fluttering in his gut. Yo gets to her feet, eager to begin and amused that he subconsciously picked a romantic-esque dance.

Under the lantern's soft glow, Fanboy flashes a half-smile and extends his gloved hand to Yo after taking a bow. He understands that a simple, formal request will get the job done, but exerts a suave tone of voice, bearing confidence.

Yo hums, a sweet smile spreading across her face as she performs an overly elegant curtsey and accepts his hand, noting his intense blush at the contact. She finds his bashful expression curious. They nestle and hug all the time and have even kissed, though that's a rare phenomenon that usually ends in goofy gags and giggles. Perhaps the reason behind his restlessness is that _this_ is the first time they will be, well, _conventionally_ romantic (despite Fanboy's reserved insistence that it won't be). 

Fanboy takes a deep breath. The dance requires little skill, but he hasn't performed it with anyone besides his best friend. Holding Yo steady, Fanboy guides her to stand about a foot away from him in the room's center. Yo beams, feeling exceptionally friendly, and inches closer until the toes of their shoes touch. Fanboy snickers to release some pent up nerves, and tucks his right elbow beneath her armpit, effectively bringing them closer still before resting his other hand on her waist. Yo's humming hitches in surprise at the flirty movement. Her cheeks blush brightly and her hands fidget, unsure of where to go until Fanboy takes hold of one and places it at his nape. Yo gets the idea and does the same with her other hand. From there, they keep steady and begin.

They sway to her soft hums, using minimal foot movement to slowly rotate on the spot. Fanboy concentrates, muttering small encouragements while Yo wishes they had real music to commemorate the occasion, but even so, this is special. Fanboy is steady and strong, carefully guiding her through the movements. Yo drifts off into the moment and leans forward to rest her head against Fanboy's collarbone. The maneuver is startling but strangely comforting, and Fanboy's unsure if that's more embarrassing than the act itself. Whatever it is, he doesn't object. Yo beams against his uniform's latex fabric, feels his heart beating like a hammer, the noisy palpitations nearly visible. They quicken when she lifts one of her hands from his neck to caress his scorching cheek. 

Soon, their dance evolves into "hug-and-sway." It feels intensely personal to be entwined like this and Fanboy’s sweaty red face is a surefire testament. Thank goodness they've just had a bath.

Ignoring the sweat, Yo cups his face before pulling him down to her level and pressing their lips together. Fanboy gasps into it, his hands falling away from her waist and grabbing at air. Yo follows his trajectory to the floor, landing atop him. He’s at first irritated that she has decided to so abruptly disrupt the dance and lightly smacks her arm in annoyance. Undeterred, she crushes their faces together, humming into the kiss and looping her arms around his neck.

In no time, Fanboy’s irritation melts away. He feels strange, an unheard blast of warmth denotating in his chest. He can feel Yo’s bangs brushing against his masked forehead and the heat of her scorching face radiating against his own. They’ve never kissed this long, he realizes, that singular thought singing through his cloudy mind. He wonders for a split second if they should stop, but Yo’s soft humming melts away the rest of his uncertainties.

In need of breath, Yo pulls away with a gasp, taking a moment to consider her actions before thinking, forget it, and plunging back in. Fanboy is in a world of mush. His limbs are putty, his mind is blank, and his blood is rushing all around inside him. Yo has kissed him before, but this is different. This is much more intimate, much more passionate than the soft pecks he has grown used to. Her full weight on his torso, her hands clutching his face, her passion: it’s all fueling something inside him that he has never felt before. With a new urge to further proximity, his shaky hands find purchase at her hips. Above him, Yo feels equally strange, unsure as to what's driving her actions other than an intense yearning for closeness, but enjoying them all the same. 

After a period, the lantern's battery drains the last of its power, and darkness shrouds. 

They separate yet again, gasping for breath. Yo feels lighter than air, grinning and falling back on the comforter with a content sigh. While she's breathing easily,Fanboy's a different story. He’s gasping like a fish out of water, entirely baffled by what has just occurred. He pants and wipes his mouth. Well, that certainly didn't go as planned! Dancing with Chum Chum had never ended with a giant smooch!

Fanboy squirms, feeling as heavy as a two-ton weight. He glances in Yo’s general direction, the warmth in him as steady as ever. What should he do now? Laugh? Pass out? Declare his love? Oh dear, he thinks. If he has hearts in his eyes, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Wiping his mouth again, Fanboy faintly remembers watching teenagers smooch at street corners. Back then, he’d found it repulsive. Now, he doesn't know what to think. Is this persistent fluster just a part of growing up?

Before he has more time to dwell, Yo finds his hand in the dark and takes it. With a sugary sweet tone, she thanks him for the lesson and hopes they can do it again soon. Through his weird, airy gasps, Fanboy squeaks--don't mention it--and to save face, clicks his tongue and finger-guns at her. Her touch has sent a current of electricity flowing through his veins. He squirms again.

Yo giggles, only a tiny bit ashamed for what she has done. It doesn't go unheard by her flustered counterpart. What? Was this her intent all along. He asks her this, and after snapping out of his shock, Fanboy playfully pounces on Yo and wrestles with her until she cries uncle.

Lying breathless on their backs, Yo finds his hand again and squeezes it tenderly. This time, he eagerly accepts it, finding no more reasons to deny the feelings this contact could bring.

\---

Their happiness if fleeting, obviously. Three years is a curse, but four is a calamity. They can't possibly stay here forever, but it's beginning to look that way. It wouldn't be as terrible if they had more to do, grow, learn, and stimulate their senses, but the only adult in their lives, the worst example of a role-model ever, gives nothing. Neglectful, abusive, and self-centered, Boog has taken their childhood away and pushed them to despair. 

They have tried everything to escape, but nothing has worked. How pathetic, they think ashamedly, to have failed themselves, each other, and the ones they love. Chum Chum is out there, alone without his best friend, in his _teens,_ moving through life without a support system. Yo's kitty is without her owner, and might not even be alive anymore, having verged on elderly right before the kidnapping. The stress is so overwhelming that they begin to lose their sense of reality. In the periphery of Yo's vision, she begins to see flashing lights, only to jerk her head around to find empty space. At one point, Fanboy hears someone screaming, and it isn't until he feels the hands of his partner trying to resuscitate him that he realizes the screams are his own. They are miserable, the burden of failure creating an immense amount of pain, depleting them emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Yo replays the what-ifs and hypothetical scenarios, filling the voids between breaths and leaving her utterly decimated in her wake. Fanboy suffers these thoughts likewise but comforts his companion the best he can, ever insistent on their innocence. Life wasn't easy before; they both dealt with normal childhood trials like homework, friendship problems, and bullies, but they were happy and blameless. Life was filled with an endless array of adventures with minor setbacks. Now, life is the opposite. Neglected by the only adult figure in their lives, they are left to their own devices with unanswered questions.

An example of this is Boog overlooking to inform Yo, who is developing into a young lady, about menstrual cycles, so imagine her shock when she spots the bleeding. Fanboy too is terrified, the blood having appeared out of nowhere. When Boog arrives and heeds the commotion, he worries that Yo has actually injured herself, but when they inform him of the blood's source, he actually tips his head back and laughs.

The two frantic teens freeze, glancing back and forth between themselves and the cackling madman. Yo can't bear it, so scared that she begins to dribble. When Boog finally calms, he adorns a big ole' grin, and his eyes are shiny with unshed tears.

_Finally_ , he expresses and holds a hand over his heart as if relieved. Fanboy wastes no time in demanding answers. Just what does that mean? What’s there to be happy for? Boog just shakes his head and smiles like an amused parent. The expression makes Fanboy want to slap it right off the man’s face, but with Yo as vulnerable as she is, he daren’t.

Sheet-white and glued to the commode, Yo trembles uneasily as Boog crudely teaches them all he knows of feminine hygiene basics. Fanboy pays close attention, but can hardly believe what he is hearing, jaw hanging with shock. Surely, Yo's insides have imploded, but Boog swears on Fisty and Slappy that he's telling the truth: this will happen every month for the rest of her life. Yo, having yearned to hear any reason as to why she is bleeding other than a disease, is relieved.

With a broad smile at the young woman, Boog assures her that he will fix it. She won’t even need to lift a finger.

When the man returns with the metal basin, Yo's heart sinks. Boog sets it down with a heave and watches her expectantly. Crying and sniffling, she removes her stained clothes and sinks into the tub. It's dreadfully cold; Yo wraps her arms around herself to keep from shaking under Boog's stare but to no avail.

Boog fills the tub an inch or two with warm water from the hose, and Yo trembles from the momentary relief. He tells her that this painful bleeding will last a few days and that she needs to keep the room clean by staying put. Only when she stops bleeding will she be allowed to rejoin Fanboy in the comforter. At that news, Yo cries even harder, dreading the cold, long hours she will have to endure alone. Fanboy goes green at the thought that Yo will be bleeding nonstop for days, but he's relieved (if Boog is being truthful), she isn't dying. He quietly promises her that he'll lend her the blanket.

Boog smiles, as if proud, and pats Fanboy on the head. His insides go cold at the touch, and he closes his eyes to block it out instead of fighting back. It’s a coping mechanism he has avoided often after witnessing Yo’s catatonic episode after the shear incident, but after this, he can take it no more, and without warning, his brain sends him back to a simpler time.

_…Fanboy, I know I’ve made you do this a thousand times already, but can you promise me you’ll wake me up if I have a nightmare? …Yeah, THAT nightmare. You know which one; we always have the same dream!_

_…I know, I know I should set an alarm, but mine gets SO LOUD during the day... You sleep right through it, but me? I wake myself up with my own breathing. I wish I knew how to turn down the volume on it. Wait, you’ve already set mine for me? But what if I sleep through it? Will you still wake me up? …Aw, you’re always looking out for me, Buddy._

_…I got the blankets! This one’s got a funny bear on it. …Oh yeah! You’ve had this since you were a baby, right? Haha! That’s so funny. Here, take it, and I’ll go grab mine. It’s got Man-Arctica’s face on it!_

_…Are you cold? There, there, Fanboy… Are you okay? No, you’re not! You’re shivering! One hot mug of cocoa coming right up! I know you love yours right out of the dryer. Ooh! You’d like some marshmallows too, right? Of course! I’ll melt them in the shape of your emblem. You know I’m awesome at that. …Come again? Too much effort? Oh, don’t be silly, Fanboy. It’s the least I can do! You made me soup when I was sick! …Yes, of course, it tasted good. No, of course, I wasn’t faking! Sit tight; I’ll be back in a flash!_

When Fanboy comes to, hot tears are trailing down his face, and a massive headache prods at the edges of his skull, but he’s smiling like he couldn’t be happier. Boog's gargantuan fingers are digging into the poor boy's temples to keep him steady. Wanting Fanboy's undivided attention, Boog tilts his head up and looks directly into his working eye. Fanboy just blinks wanly and shakes his head, wanting to retreat back into the corners of his mind where could see Chum Chum again.

Boog shakes him roughly, repeating over and over an order that Fanboy just can’t understand, nor does he care to understand. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to let go, to retain that cloudy emptiness that opened the door to the realm of remembrance and pleasantness. Boog, however, is making it impossible.

With a shrill whine, Fanboy curls in around himself as Yo cries from her tub. It's so selfish, but he wishes more than ever that Chum Chum was here to keep him company. He misses his little buddy more than anyone else in the world and wants more than ever to hold him close like he used to. He can only imagine what pain his sidekick must be going through, and is horrified to think of how lonely he must be. 

Overwhelmed, Fanboy weeps, and Boog carefully withdraws his hand from the teen. He doesn’t want his captive to fall into a mental coma like Yo had, so he backs off before he can. He soon exits, leaving a sniffling girl to bleed out and a semi-coherent boy to wallow in the misery he has caused.

Yo peers over the rim of the tub and whispers Fanboy’s name. He doesn’t answer, but rather unsteadily stands and tosses the blanket in the tub to land atop Yo. He settles beside her on top of the blankets and hugs the girl close.

Has she ever shared someone’s dream? That’s what he asks her in a broken, nostalgic drawl. Yo opens her mouth to inquire about what has happened, but decides to leave it be. Fanboy’s alive and responsive, and that’s all that matters. She won't even complain about the bleeding if she can help it.

...

Five years in, on a quiet day, Yo asks Fanboy if she can see his face. It isn't unprompted: she has been pestering him about what lies beneath his cowl for weeks, and every time, Fanboy has rejected her question. He cautions that as a superhero, he is likely to entice dangerous villains, and keeping his identity secret protects those closest around him. Yo carefully peers at him before gesturing to their living situation. 

Fanboy blushes but holds firm. Besides Yo, his superhero identity is the last semblance of normalcy that he has, the only link to his past and freedom. It grants relief and security, and he's determined to cling to it as long as possible. 

Disappointed, the teenage girl huffs and rolls onto her side and counts by fives. Counting is a new coping mechanism that Yo practices when a world without time sparks her anxiety. Without clocks or a window to the outside, Yo hasn't any idea what time it is. She's ever-so bored. Seeing something new would have made her day. 

Sensing her displeasure, Fanboy sneaks up from behind and playfully blows a raspberry into her ear. Yo shrieks and grabs her ear while Fanboy falls back onto his haunches, cackling like a maniac. From there, it's an all-out war. Yo pounces and pins the male onto his back, holding his arms down with her knees. He retaliates by lifting his foot and kicking her from behind. It's a gentle kick and doesn't even leave a welt, but it's enough to unseat her.

The two teens repeat the process until they're sweating and out of breath. Fanboy, as the weaker of the two, surrenders first. Yo concedes her victory and collapses atop him, panting. Fanboy squeaks. She's _crushing_ him.

RIIIIIIIP

Fanboy and Yo freeze, and then look down at the hand that's grasping his sleeve, now ripped at the seam. 

Oh.

Yo jumps back, apologizing profusely while Fanboy grabs at the tear in a futile attempt to keep it intact, panic building within him. He wants to scream at Yo, but he knows this isn't her fault. The simple fact is that he's outgrowing his only outfit and can no longer ignore the tightness around his emaciated body, the shortening of his sleeves, or his toes' cramping. Yo is in the same boat, having developed and stretched out her own clothes.

Despite Fanboy's best efforts to hide the damage, Boog notices and forces him to show him the tears under the lantern's light. It's a humiliating display for the younger male, having to reveal all that, and he's nervous as to what Boog will do.

Rubbing his chiseled chin, Boog tells the teen to wait, and he leaves his captives to huddle in uncertainty. Boog returns with a pale blue shirt, likely his own, and hands it over to Fanboy.

Fanboy bites his bottom lip, still rife with uncertainty. Is this what Boog expects will replace his beloved uniform? The largest part of his identity. Without it, he can't call himself a superhero-in-training. Boog doesn't share Fanboy's concerns, clearing his throat and signaling for him to change.

Yo looks away, her heart aching for the other teen as he sits there shaking. Fanboy stalls, fingering the shirt and mumbling under his breath, but under Boog's towering person, he relents to the order and sheds his costume, folding it with care and placing it beside him. He decides to leave his mask alone but removes his shoes just in case.

Boog's eyes glint and his arms cross. Fanboy goes a little red under the scrutinizing gaze and clumsily holds the pale blue shirt. It's large and would fall down his shoulders, and the hem would reach his knobby knees. Fanboy spreads it on the floor and smooths it out as best he can, but can't help the sneer of displeasure from spreading across his face. 

This lousy replacement is an insult. Fanboy says that aloud and stubbornly crosses his arms. He'd rather wear his unfit costume than Boog's clothing.

Yo flinches, perturbed by Fanboy's outright contempt, but Boog just shrugs, supposing Fanboy can live nude, but disallowing him from ever wearing that costume again. Now, he says that all Fanboy has to do left is remove his cowl.

There's a short silence. Fanboy straightens, trying his best to look intimidating, and growls out a resounding no. 

Yo trembles where she sits, staring at the floor. Flashes of the past, the incident when Boog yanked out chunks of her hair, when he beat them to near death just for showing a hint of rebellion, and when he starved them for long periods, burst before her eyes. If opposed, Boog could do just about anything to them--he may even murder them!

From where she sits, Yo whispers for Fanboy to listen, but he refuses outright, crossing his arms and staring at the floor. Boog tilts his head and ponders the young teen before him.

Fanboy hasn't suffered a _complete_ mental breakdown in the years he has been held captive--not once! Sure, he has undergone panic attacks, stress, anxiety, and depression, but unlike Yo, who lost her rationality at Boog's hands, Fanboy has yet to be psychologically comatose. That sort of vigilance intrigues Boog. It makes him wonder how far Fanboy can be pushed before he falls over the edge. 

Beatings, insults, starvation, sickness, isolation--Fanboy has been through it all but clutches his fighting spirit with a toddler's fierceness clinging to his favorite toy. Boog can't decide whether that is due to false hope, pride, or deluded valor, but whatever the reason, Fanboy is presenting himself as an invincible force, a challenge, and if not that, a threat that needs to be crushed quickly.

Fanboy's working eye is different this time around. Alongside the fear and determination, there is a pure panic--a deep, intense dread pushing to the forefront of Fanboy's being and exposing itself to the biggest threat in the room. He's cracking.

Boog glances back and forth between Fanboy and Yo and gets an idea. He stands firm and tells the young male that Yo will suffer if he doesn't remove his mask.

This venture alone, this stripping of his identity, is a calamity. Still, when Fanboy glances at poor Yo, who's shaking uncontrollably in her corner, he can't imagine what she would think of him if he refused to obey. Could she survive it? No...

Humiliated, Fanboy quietly and tearfully surrenders. Yo's life is far more important than preserving his secret identity. Both he and Boog know that. 

The removal of his cowl feels alien--he doesn't think he has ever removed it under any circumstances except to wash his hair. He holds the sacred item in his hands, feeling truly naked without it. His shaggy golden-brown hair has grown to his shoulders, and his bangs fall over his eyes like a curtain. He swallows hard, and with great reluctance, organizes it to rest in the small pile of clothes. He lowers his head and hides his face behind his bare hands in a futile attempt to protect it. This is worse than a beating--this is ripping a portion of him away. 

Boog's lip curls and he orders Fanboy to look at him. Fanboy peeks at him through his fingers, but Boog shakes his head. Before the young male can protest, the man yanks away the neon green and violet accessories. He stands there victoriously, clutching the items in each hand high in the air before ripping them to shreds.

Fanboy gasps, dismayed, his eye nearly popping out of his skull. He sits there open-mouthed, watching in horror as his precious memento is destroyed. He can't hear Yo's cries, nor his own strangled gasps. All he can fathom is the destruction of his past life, his severed ties to Chum Chum, his beloved best friend, and Boog's evil grin. His mocking laughter is muffled in Fanboy's ears, his form a blurry mess in his eye. Then, all he can see is red.

Yo turns, unable to hold herself back as her cellmate goes beserk, flying at Boog and clawing at his face with his bare hands. The attack catches Boog off-guard, and he suffers multiple scratches before he gathers his bearings and pins Fanboy to the ground. He hasn't dared to attack his captor like this before, except for a couple of failed escape attempts.

Yo gapes at her poor friend as he's weighted to the floor. Traumatized by her own experiences with Boog, she is unable to help. All she can do is beg Boog to let Fanboy go, that Fanboy didn't mean it, that she'll take the fall. 

Boog ignores Yo completely, gripping Fanboy by the hair and forcing him to the cold concrete before getting right in the young teen's face and roaring for him to submit. 

Hysterical, Fanboy thrashes and screeches like a wild animal under Boog's hefty mass. He's more vulnerable than he has ever been in his life--weak and without cover--yet fighting harder than he has in years. It's invigorating, and Yo is half-tempted to join in, but her fear is crushing.

It takes longer than expected, but eventually, Fanboy's adrenaline drains, his limbs going lax in defeat. Boog shifts cautiously, feeling the boy's rapidly fluttering heart below his palm.

Fanboy doesn't move; his body has expired. Boog nods and finally releases the poor boy, lying there sobbing and choking on his own saliva. Boog's fingers have strands of Fanboy's hair tangled in them. Yo shrinks back and covers her head. Fanboy is bested, having prevailed for as long as possible, a feat that nobody can scoff at, but watching Boog shred his cherished costume was too much to bear. With a guttural wail, Fanboy faints dead away at Boog's feet.

Yo rushes to his side, avoiding eye-contact with her evil captor before dragging Fanboy back to the blankets. Boog watches. She hasn't verbally interacted with him ever since the hair incident. He sighs, not wanting her to shut down again by trying to interact. Another day, he decides, and then he leaves the two captives alone.

Working quickly, Yo turns her undivided attention to her unconscious ally and wraps him up in the blankets to protect his modesty. Fanboy has never looked so small and frail, and she's astounded at how hard he fought. She gently pats his cheek and runs her fingers through his hair, wordlessly coaxing him to awaken from his stupor.

Yo is uncertain whether or not she should be looking at his face--this is the first time she has seen it, and it breaks her heart to know that it is as bruised and wounded as the rest of him--Fanboy never wanted her to see it. She doesn't have the right, does she? Yo pauses her ministrations and feels a surge of guilt for her lack of courage. Could she have helped in if she'd stepped in? 

Her consideration dives when she remembers once again that Boog's strength is unbeatable. She couldn't have protected Fanboy even if she'd put her heart and soul into it. His secret identity was doomed from the start.

It doesn't matter. What matters is that Fanboy is alive. Yo sniffs and hugs the male tight against her, counting the seconds ticking by. His face is perfect, and though scarred and bruised like her own, it is free of natural blemishes, and his hair is soft and silky. With an open hand, Yo traces the contours of his face, feeling warm despite the circumstances as she catches every dip, crevice, and texture.

A few minutes later, Fanboy's eyes flutter open. He tries to sit up but fails, and Yo urges him to relax when he clutches at his bruised chest. He gives another sob and asks Yo where the rest of his costume is, but she simply presses a finger against his lips. Her tired blue eyes meet his wild emerald ones, and he understands that there is no going back. Under the soft glow of the lantern, Fanboy covers his face in shame and moans his best friend's name over and over as if mourning.

Yo gently kisses the poor boy, puts a hand on his bare shoulder, and promises that he is even more handsome than she imagined. Fanboy shakes his head, seemingly inconsolable, but Yo's heart swells with love. She tells him that Boog may have taken his costume, but he's still a hero, with or without a suit. He's still _her_ Fanboy. 

Fanboy manages to sit up on his own, his hands slowly sliding down his face until they come to a stop above his lap. Sniffling, he asks if she means it, to which Yo answers with a kiss. Her actions have the desired effect. Fanboy cries but accepts her, holding her close to ensure his faith. Yo cups his tear-stained cheeks, tenderly caressing the areas before sliding her hands down to his shoulders. Despite the pain, an explosion of warmth ignites within them both. Nothing between them, they fully embrace. Through good and bad, thick and thin, and for better or worse, they will always be there for one another. That, Fanboy says, is a promise, and Yo wholly matches his sentiment with another kiss.

...

_Yo graciously welcomes the sun: a giant yellow orb of light beaming over her and the grassy field at where she stands. She hasn't seen the sun in years, and her bright, blue eyes smart with pain by the exposure to natural light, but the gentle warmth comforts her broken soul._ _Her skin is pale, almost translucent, and her inky hair cascades down her back like a veil. She's adorned in a long, loose white dress that flutters in the cool breeze. The grasses beneath her bare toes are soft and green, the clouds above white and fluffy. Overhead, seagulls squawk._

_Her friends are mere dots on the horizon, faceless smudges of color, but warm and inviting as they beckon. Behind them, the great beautiful buildings of Galaxy Hills tower dominate the horizon, bordered by hazy blue mountains that curve at the peaks._

_Yo smiles as a pink blossom flutters past and lands at her feet. She doesn't know how she got here, but despite that and the sorrow lurking within, she has never felt happier._

_Fanboy stands nearby, holding clusters of flowers he has picked from the field. He is wearing a long, pale blue shirt that drapes over his shoulders and hangs down past his knees. Despite Yo's inability to turn her head to see, she knows that his smiling face is without a mask._

_Yo feels a physical tug at her chest after a spell, an invisible force drawing her forward. She knows what it means. It's time to go home, return to her school, her pet cat, her friends, and pick up where life left off._

_Stalwart and strong, she takes Fanboy's ungloved hand and steps forward, the soft green blades folding beneath her weight. Homeward bound--no obstacles, no hindrances, just sunny skies, and a beautiful green grass path speckled with white, gold, and pink flowers._

_A calm settles over Yo's tired heart, clearing her mind. Eyes closed, she lifts arms to embrace the world back in its tender hold as she marches on. She feels Fanboy copy her stance, embracing the warmth of the sun._

_At the twelfth step, the crisp breeze stills and her long hair cascades to its natural perch. Yo freezes and Fanboy stops as well, his arms going slack and releasing the flowers to flutter to the ground. A part of Yo panics as she tries to move her feet, but she is frozen solid in time._

_Unable to go any further, locked hand-in-hand at the edge of freedom, they wait._

_Hours pass, and the sun disappears behind the clouds. The last of Galaxy Hills sinks out of view, and Yo's friends are no longer calling._ _Fanboy and Yo remain standing side by side, the grass frosting over beneath their toes, the sky overcast. As Yo stares at the horizon, the panicked part of her diminishes, and a scary calm washes over her. Then, the rain. Icy cold droplets plummet from the cloudy skies and soak the frozen youngsters._

_Yo closes her eyes, finally accepting her fate as salty tears run down her face. There is no hope. She can't escape._

_She is forever lost._

_At that, her feet can move freely. She shifts, grateful, but makes no move toward the horizon. Fanboy lingers as well, shielding his eyes from the rain. She catches him shiver, feels him give her a quick nuzzle before he retreats._

_The breeze picks up anew. Yo turns her back on the world. She now fronts a meadow of tall grasses, stretching out as far as the eye can see. Her sodden dress sticks to her emaciated legs as she stumbles over to the brush's entrance: a minute opening in the plain where she can enter._

_Yo plods on her hands and knees through the shaft until she arrives at the clearing where Fanboy is waiting. The clearance is dome-shaped, entirely made of green. The grass is stiffer and shriveled here, and it pokes at Yo's hands, but it is sheltered and will keep her dry and warm. Just above, rain patters against the grassy roof, but not one drop leaks in._

_Yo can't see above Fanboy's neckline, but she hears the smile in his voice as he whispers her name and takes her soft hand in his. He's the source of warmth, of energy. He speaks soothingly, and she kens the warm tone. They sit beside one another and feast on an assortment of wild berries and bread. Her stomach has felt empty for ages, and she's overjoyed to have her fill. Between bites, Fanboy sneaks a quick peck to her cheek._

_After licking the last of the berry juice from her fingers, Yo watches Fanboy gather a bounty of cotton and construct a soft nest for them to retire. He flashes a fervid smile, the implications clear as he pats the material._

_Heat blossoms in Yo's gut. Face warming in tandem, she touches the plush cotton as Fanboy saddles up from behind and kisses her temple. Her heart pace quickens as he takes her hands in his and pushes her to lay back upon the nest. From there, they lose themselves in a fervid haze of pink and red. The storm rages on outside, but they ignore it, solely focused on making the other person happy. From there, the roof disappears, and the rain comes pouring in as they reach the pinnacle--_

Yo jolts awake, an unexpected warmth flooding her body that leaves her sweating and blinking in the dark, her heart beating like a hammer as her latest vision dissipates. The room's freezing temperature feels mild against her searing skin.

The woman groans aloud, flinging a hand to rest over her forehead, her long bangs plastered to her skin with sweat. A sleepy murmur to her right evokes the presence of her snoozing cellmate: Fanboy, thankfully dead asleep and blissfully unaware of Yo's circumstance.

Yo yawns and rubs her sweaty forehead. She needs to sleep, but being bombarded with nonsensical dreams that leave her dry-mouthed and sweaty gives her little chance. She decides to scoot out from under the blanket and stand, savoring the cold air. Her worn yellow shirt is little more than rags, riddled with tears from the various beatings she has sustained and soaked by a sweat bounty. Her feet are bare, having outgrown her old sneakers. Placing her hands on her widening hips, Yo takes a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves and carefully paces the room before abandoning her shirt altogether.

Then, she feels a lurch in her gut. Moving quickly and feeling her way through the dark, Yo hunches over the commode and expels her stomach's contents. When she finishes heaving, she leans back against the wall and waits for the sparkles to disappear from her view.

Fanboy's lids flutter open. Sensing the empty space beside him, he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes as he searches for Yo. She has been getting up in the middle of sleepytime and walking around the cold room to ward off weird dreams, or at least, that's the extent of what she tells him. Wrinkling his nose at the smell, Fanboy calls out her name and holds the blanket up in offering.

Yo blinks, caught slightly off-guard by his voice but doesn't say a word, just wipes her mouth and dives back under the warm blankets to settle beside her love. She doesn't know why her thoughts are always intimate. Perhaps years of captivity can do that to a person, make one crave for affection from the only other soul with them, but Yo doesn't know that yet.

For the most part, her relationship with Fanboy is defined by an unphysical love that satisfies their souls. They care deeply for each other and can't conceive division. Sometimes, a conversation will trail, and they will just lay side by side, hands entwined as blood rushes all around inside them.

Fanboy smiles drowsily and gathers the young woman up in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head, long healed from Boog's assault years ago, and rests his hands over her bare stomach. He has been having strange thoughts for years, not _just_ wanting to take Yo's fears away and hold her safe, but he wants to… Fanboy flinches, and Yo strokes his hand comfortingly. She questions his health, despite her own ailments that he has yet to discover. Fanboy doesn't respond. His thoughts are weird if nothing else, and he feels sick to his stomach when Yo asks him to describe them. He feels guilty, wondering if something is wrong with him.

To be candid, Yo is a beautiful young woman, and Fanboy is attracted to her. She has always been pretty, but things have changed. When she cuddles up beside him to keep warm, his heart hammers against his ribcage, and he's swiftly overcome with so much emotion that he wants to hide. It's been like that ever since Boog took away his costume and Yo saved him from total despair.

Dreadfully abashed, Fanboy dismisses Yo's questions with a flustered chuckle. At first, Yo's disappointed that he won't indulge her, but admits she can't judge. How can she expect him to explain his mechanics while she can't describe her own? Yo sighs. At least she hasn't had a "period" (as Boog calls it) for a while. Whatever the reason, she's overjoyed to be rid of it, at least, before it inevitably returns. She hates spending days in that tub.

Humming quietly, Fanboy kisses the back of her head and gently scrapes his buckteeth against her nape. Yo giggles affectionately at the feeling. She rolls around and gazes into the man's emerald eyes. They love moments like this; they press their foreheads together and just _be_. Yo lifts Fanboy's spidery hand and gently kisses his cold fingers, one by one, to warm them. Fanboy's working pupil dilates as the woman presses her lips to his ring finger. It makes him wonder.

With a soft, inquisitive voice, Fanboy asks her if they're old enough to get married. The question is so sudden and so innocent that Yo actually laughs. Hurt, Fanboy's grin falls, but only for a moment before she kisses him softly on the nose. Yo replies that when she thinks they're grown up, yes, she would love to.

Fanboy squeals a little and wraps Yo up in a joyful embrace. She shrieks and giggles as he buries his face in the crook of her neck and tickles her side with a free hand. 

In time, the little world warms. Their personalities sometimes clash, but their bodies fit like puzzle pieces when they connect. It's primitive and pure amplified by a perfect balance of shyness, innocent curiosity, passion, trust, and _love_. Fanboy lifts his head to smile fondly at her. Yo smiles back and raises a tired hand to run her fingers through his sweaty hair. 

_I love you too._

Saying it aloud makes all the difference. Yo faintly remembers chasing boys around a schoolyard, aching for someone to snuggle, smooch, and play with. Physical attraction was the basis for falling in love. The memories make her blush and smile, and she queries how Fanboy felt about love way back when. 

Fanboy smirks, admitting that he hardly thought about pursuing a relationship with anyone, and that's just how he remembers guys being. Although, he recalls there were several girls he could admit were cute. 

Cute, eh? Yo grins, asking if she was one of them, but Fanboy shakes his head with a smirk. Not a chance. She rolls her eyes and pretends to be offended, playfully smacking the back of his head as he cackles.

Well, Fanboy and Yo have grown. Their relationship feels more than a crush. In ten years, they've gotten to understand each other on a deeper level, and the more they bonded, the more they grew to care for one another.

The tie has always been risky. In the beginning, Yo was uncertain of her budding feelings, upset that when they'd eventually get rescued, nothing would be the same. She was circumspect about knowing Fanboy and vice-versa. However, once she grew desperate, she opened up to be seen and understood. 

Now, the risk is what makes it exciting, despite the feasibility of Boog meddling into it. Love, Yo realizes, is a considerable risk, but she's willing to take it.

Three years ago, the honeymoon phase dissipated. As Yo and Fanboy began to explore each other's souls, there settled a calm sense of familiarity. They felt grounded and content in each other's occupancy, somewhat due to the raging hormones and forced confinement. 

As time went on, Fanboy began to suspect his feelings, wondering why _her_. Besides being forced to stay here, what were the reasons to pursue Yo? Would he have grown to love her if they were outside this prison? His traumatized mind couldn't really think of a sound cause outside of it just "feeling right." When he shared his thoughts with Yo, she assured him that there doesn't always have to be a reason. What happens may not always be flattering or comfortable, but that's okay if it feels right.

Fanboy wasn't sure. Wasn't he supposed to feel incomplete without her, like in those silly romantic movies? Yo insisted that as individuals, they should be able to feel complete without another. However, she couldn't imagine going through this alone.

Still, Fanboy was lost. Mind that that was soon after Boog had destroyed his favorite costume. Without it, Fanboy felt like a piece of his soul had been torn from his being, creating a hollow space he just didn't know how to fill. He'd suffered quite a bit trying to figure out who he was. 

Yo did her best to help him rediscover himself, going over points like a presentation, and it went something like this:

_Lancelot (Lance)._

_Maybe sixteen. Light brown hair, green eyes, really white skin._

_Likes word games, jokes, videogames, snuggling, blueberries, fried chicken, and baths._

_Dislikes Boog, silence, getting hurt, falling ill, homework, and being cold._

_Misses Frosty Freezy Freeze, sunshine, comics, superheroes, villains, playing outside, Chum Chum, Miles, Mr. Something, and Lensy._

_Wants to wear a new costume, escape, give Chum Chum a huge hug, read a comic, run for a hundred miles, and drink a Frosty Freezy Freeze._

_Doesn't want to be stuck here forever, for Yo to get hurt, to be bored._

After going over those pointers, Fanboy felt a little better despite misremembering his old peers' names and Yo giggling at his real name. Yo found the activity incredibly fun and made a list for herself.

_Yoko (Yo)._

_Possibly sixteen. Black hair, blue eyes, whitish-yellowish skin._

_Likes baths, counting, blankets, crackers, orange juice, and cuddling._

_Dislikes Boog, being sick, getting hurt, blood, and the dark._

_Misses grass, beds, digital kitty, real kitty, pinecones, movies, music, Chum Chum, Lupe, Nancy, Francine, and the rest of the girls._

_Wants to jump into the ocean, hold her kitty, eat ice cream, go to the zoo, wear a gown, put on makeup, play tag, read a book._

_Doesn't want to be stuck here forever, for Fanboy to get hurt, to die._

Unfortunately, the list put a damper on her mood as she thought of how her future would have been promising if not for Boog. Fanboy also tried not to think about what could have been. It was depressing, and the last thing he needed was to shut down. He was so thankful to have Yo there with him. 

Together, they can accept the good with the bad, allow themselves to believe it is a choice of theirs to make. When the lapses of life begin to manifest, there's really no way around them. They need to be faced head-on, and Fanboy can't ask for a better partner to jump those hurdles with. He trusts their bond will last. Building that was no easy feat, but that makes it all the more special. He supposes that all relationships take work, and once they reach sincere, unconditional love, it'll all come together.

In the present, Fanboy believes they've reached that point. The proof is how they handle the trials, how they communicate, and how they respect each other. He grins, going a little pink in the face. 

If they get married, does that mean they could have...babies?

Curious, Fanboy asks Yo, who sadly shakes her head and rests her free hand over her heart, genuinely upset. She has wanted to have kids ever since she was little, her dream to be a mom, but no stork will ever find them here.

Stork? Fanboy scratches his chin, reminiscing about what...Ozzy...Oz--an _adult_ told him about where babies come from. He recounts it aloud: if a mom and dad pray to God real hard, he'll give them a kid. The baby will grow in the mom's stomach for a while, and then she'll give birth, and POOF! A new person!

Fanboy giggles, perking up a little. Whoever heard of a stork?

It's a magical stork, Yo stubbornly argues but smiles at the delighted expression on Fanboy's face. He's moved by the idea of adding someone to their, well, family, and who better than a little baby of their own? The woman sighs, likewise smitten by the plan. Then again... She frowns and surveys their dirty, dingy, and dark living area. There's no way they could have a family here. It's too small and far too dangerous with Boog around. Fanboy pouts but sees her point.

They don't want anyone else to be trapped here alone with them. When they escape and buy a house, _then_ they can have lots of babies. 

Fanboy sighs too, hoping for three boys and three girls, so it's even. 

Yes, Yo agrees, wiggling with glee at the idea. Imagine having so many kids! But they can only have each other until then. 

Fanboy considers this, his broken, traumatized mind working to make sense of that. Eventually, he laughs and lays down beside her. That's okay with him. Perhaps they can pretend to have kids, like playing house! Fanboy trembles, loving his idea as Yo's eyes light up. Their baby can have an Uncle Chum and Aunt Lupe! It would be so cool!

To pretend to have a family--a real-life family. Yo considers it when Fanboy settles them in for a rest, softly reciting a short lullaby he barely remembers from a decade earlier.

_O'er the mills, fall stars of Galaxy Hills._

_Sparkling their greetings, they plunge from the knolls._

_Down they go, down they go_.

_Bright diamonds beside my lovely abide,_

_They will guard thee, under soft moonlight_.

_Here they come, here they come._

_The comets streak o'er and take all thy fear,_

_Burning and flying, my darling, they're near._

_Up we go, up we go._

_My lovely, my star, of Galaxy Hills._

Fanboy punctuates the song with a loving kiss to Yo's temple. The woman releases a giant yawn and blinks tiredly, the cloud fairy finally lulling her back to sleepytime island. Fanboy stays awake just a little while longer and runs his gloveless fingers through her hair, which has grown quite lengthy. 

Now that the idea of having kids has been planted in his mind, he can't stop thinking about it. He vaguely remembers caring for little Chum Chum, that paternal quality prominent even in his younger years. Fanboy smiles, petting his love. He can't help the internal need to protect. It's partially why he wants to be a superhero in the first place! Protecting Yo, like how he guarded Chum Chum, feels similarly personal, but distinctive. He isn't sure how to explain, but preserving Yo's safety now more than ever feels urgent and necessary, not that it was unnecessary before, but now it feels even more crucial. It's as if something else is on the line.

Fanboy thinks hard, but can't imagine what that is. He shuts his eyes and drifts off, dreaming of sunshine and hills of green.

\---

Ten years and three months in, Fanboy and Yo sleep face-to-face and curled up in each other's arms in their warm nest of soft, new blankets. Having bathed just twelve hours before, the young man and woman are clean and relaxed. Boog's long, pale-blue shirt lies crumpled in a corner, unused. Though they have long outgrown their clothes, both Fanboy and Yo refuse to wear anything their keeper offers and live bare instead. 

Fanboy rouses to find Boog hunkering across from the comforter. His smile is creepily tender, and his eerily gentle eyes are fixated on Yo. Prepared for the worst, Fanboy sits up to hover over his love, setting his pointed gaze on the man watching her. It doesn't surprise Boog. Recently, Fanboy has grown even more protective of Yo, covering her up, keeping her hidden, and putting himself on the line whenever their captor draws near. The meaning of his stare is unmistakable: stay away, or I'll hurt you. 

Boog is fascinated by Fanboy's eccentric behavior when it comes time to check on his female captive. He'd assumed that a male protecting the female was a learned behavior and not a trait that could be inborn. As far as he's concerned, neither Fanboy nor Yo has had a parental figure in their lives. Oz, Fanboy's "guardian," was more of a neighbor, and Yo's parents were nowhere to be found. Boog knows this; he'd joined the searches years ago. 

Left to their own devices for over a decade, Fanboy and Yo exhibit moderately traditional behaviors and roles: the male as the protector and the female as the consoler. Whether this is down to personality or instinct or both, captivates Boog. He feels like a zookeeper, quietly observing the animals while they function.

As for Fanboy's violent hostility, Boog chalks it up to his own behavior. For ten years, the man has abused them repeatedly, and now Fanboy is acting out the same way toward his captor, like a child mimicking his parents. Boog frowns.

Checking on Fanboy's health is easy enough, but monitoring Yo is challenging with her protector nearby. To try and ease Fanboy's aggression, Boog explains his plans, but Fanboy's undeveloped mind has a low tolerance for uncertainty, so he dismisses said reasons for tricks. The only way Boog can properly inspect Yo is to force the younger man down before reaching for the terrified woman and dragging her forward for a closer look.

He has to be careful; Fanboy isn't as nearly as strong as him, but he has grown taller, almost to Boog's chin, and Boog is a large man. If angry enough, Fanboy could leave visible marks, a nightmare if someone were to see them and ask questions. Boog has come extra prepared this time, hiding a length of extension cord behind his back. He distracts his captives with breakfast: a platter of waffles drizzled in melted butter and syrup sided with two orange juice glasses. 

The scrumptious scent of the food stirs Yo from her peaceful repose, and she releases a small yawn. Fanboy turns his attention to her immediately, nuzzling her temple and murmuring. Boog wonders what he's saying, but it's too quiet to hear.

Yo swallows nervously and rises from the blankets to nab a waffle, exposing her slightly protruding stomach. Boog's heart nearly skips a beat at the sight and eyes a seemingly unaware Fanboy, who, in turn, is staring him down. Boog stares right back and, clutching the cord behind his back, reaches out with his fingers to touch Yo's shoulder.

Fanboy's reaction is immediate. His eyes go wild, he bares his teeth, snarls, and leaps for Boog to protect his beloved. Equipped, Boog swings the rope like a lasso and ensnares the younger man like a rabbit. Yo gasps at the sudden commotion and scuttles back to the blankets on her hands and knees. Fanboy stares open-mouthed at the cords locking his hands together and growls at Boog to let him go. 

Boog ties the other end of the rope to the commode. Confident the line is tightly secured, he walks right past a growling Fanboy to acknowledge Yo, who peeks fearfully at him from under the blankets. His gaze softens as he beckons the young woman forward, using a gentle tone to manipulate.

Yo doesn't move. Her eyes dart over to Fanboy, who furiously yanks on the rope and snarls at Boog to leave her alone. The man rolls his eyes, turns, and delivers a resounding bop to the other male's jaw. Stunned, Fanboy sinks to the floor, effectively silenced. Yo screams and covers herself entirely, and Boog gripes that he isn't here to hurt her, that he wants to make sure she's still healthy.

There's no answer, and Boog thinks back to two months ago when his captives started substituting words with grunts, growls, howls, and whines. He's curious if that's due to mental instability or purposeful to make life harder for him.

Boog loses patience and yanks the blanket off of Yo, revealing her bare, malnourished form. She's sort of curled up into a ball, shivering in the cold. From the corner, Fanboy yells and pulls at the cord as hard as possible.

Ignoring the noise, Boog squats beside Yo and helps her sit up. She trembles, refusing to look at him as she is exposed. Boog gasps.

There's no mistaking it. Yo is pregnant. Boog says that aloud, shocked, and Fanboy's hollers cease immediately. Yo blinks, confused, and looks to the enlarged part of her body with genuine bewilderment. Boog sits there gaping and then rests his large hand over her abdomen, causing Yo to flinch. Aside from her belly, her breasts have also slightly swelled. 

Boog repeats the statement as if he can't quite believe it himself. 

She's pregnant.

Boog looks into Yo's eyes before he pulls her in for a gentle hug, causing Fanboy to go ballistic. 

It has finally happened, after years of waiting, Yo and Fanboy are finally going to have a child of their own. Boog sighs proudly and pulls back from Yo, who has gone as pale as a ghost. Oh, they've grown up so fast... It's astounding, and the evil man notes that it hasn't happened sooner. He'd never taught them the purpose of carnal acts, and with nothing to do and all day to do it, they found physical comfort in one another, utterly ignorant of what would happen. 

Boog simpers at Fanboy. The announcement clearly hasn't sunk in, what with the younger man still straining and barking. Boog repeats himself slowly so Fanboy can adequately process it.

_She is pregnant._ Boog follows it up with, _Yo_ _u're gonna be a dad._

That gives Fanboy pause. He stops struggling and stares at Yo's middle, his bafflement prompting Boog to invite him back, as long as he promises to behave. Fanboy nods, so Boog unties the cord from the commode and leads the younger man back to the blankets where Yo is waiting. See, Boog points out, she has a baby inside her. Fanboy's intense, fixed gaze remains, but inside, he is freaking out.

Boog paces the room. Food; he needs more food for Yo--she's eating for two--a raised mattress for them to sleep on, cleaning supplies... He nods to himself, hand rubbing his chin as he briskly circles the room. Neither captive moves--only watches with unblinking eyes. Unperturbed by their stares, Boog smiles at them again and leaves without another word.

The second the door closes, Yo immediately unties Fanboy's wrists. Together they ramble, justly confused as to what Boog could be going on about. Pregnant? Outwardly, Fanboy waves off the idea, but he can't help but wonder if Boog is telling the truth. Yo's in the same boat, her brows furrowed in concentration. 

After a spell, she asks if he ever saw a stork. Fanboy shakes his head before asking if she'd prayed for a baby. Ere answering, Yo looks down at her stomach, and now that it has been pointed out, she sees that it has indeed grown rounder, despite having the same meal plan that left her skeletal. No, she lies.

Fanboy tentatively touches her belly, brushing his fingertips over the swell. If Boog is correct, this is where his child is. His shattered mind can scarcely comprehend that, trying to make sense of the concept of him being a dad and her a mom. Fanboy trembles and the anxiety hits him like a train.

Yo clutches at her blotchy face and Fanboy bites his knuckles in a futile attempt to calm down. 

**HOW?**

If Yo is pregnant, how in this room are they going to have a baby? They need to get out before he or she is born! Yo gasps, her eyes welling up with more tears. What if they can't get out? What if their baby is born here and Boog hurts...? 

_No_. Fanboy shakes at the prospect, fury mounting within him. He grasps Yo's bony shoulders and promises that he won't allow Boog to lay a finger on her and their child. He alone will take the brunt of Boog's sadistic actions if need be; he doesn't care how badly it'll hurt. Yo swallows hard, looking over Fanboy's weak, bruised frame. He's skeletal and can't take Boog's beatings much longer, not without succumbing.

Through his inner turmoil, Fanboy senses Yo's worry and gives her a tight hug. His adrenaline slowly begins to fade, his mind already beginning to accept this life-changing news. Yo has a more difficult time taking in the information, her frantic thoughts running at a million miles per hour.

One day, Fanboy promises, they will get out. They'll run through fields, watch the stars at night and clouds midday. They'll eat what they want and dance to their hearts' content. They'll have their baby. 

They'll have their freedom.


	6. They Don't Despair

**Author's Note: I've returned to rewrite some passages to make the story more coherent.**

Yo's pregnancy cleaves the room's ambiance in twain. Affixed to the hope and thrill of meeting a new, uncontaminated life, there's a pang of tremendous guilt for having created it that life in the first place. For forcing that life to be born into such a tragic situation. How ironic, that through passion, tender devotion, and repentance, Fanboy and Yo believe they are entirely to blame for this. They haven’t intended to bear a child in here, but they have, thus expanding Boog's collection of victims. It just _happened_. They offer their apologies to their little one for bringing him or her into a world of darkness, and promise to make things right.

More horrifying than that is exposing their child to Boog's obsession, his pure delight leading them to conclude that this was the gambit all along. Not throughout the years of captivity have they bore witness to such profound sentiment. The way his eyes light up when he makes the announcement, the excitable tone he uses to discuss Yo's health, and the cutback on beatings reveals that other than his unquenchable thirst to harm, he feels a sense of twisted pride for having precipitated this situation, and a responsibility to take care of. His urge to control is overwhelming, and this pregnancy awards him significant clout, thus welcoming with open arms an abstruse layer of dread to the little room's inhabitants.

Control, Fanboy scoffs.   
  


Control. Fanboy scoffs. He supposes that all people want it to some degree, even him and Yo. However, they accept that other people have rights and feelings just like theirs. It’s…Fanboy closes his eyes and thinks hard… _empathy_ if he’s recalling correctly, and it’s what stops him from controlling Yo against her will and vice versa, for fear of harming one another. That, and they don’t really have the urge to control each other. It’s just not how their brains work.

But Boog’s brain, Fanboy had once pondered years back, of course, must work a bit differently. Behind those charming blue eyes and charismatic grin lives not a single ounce of empathy or remorse. Boog has a special stare for ones he intends to hurt, a very striking, intense stare severely lacking in humanity. That coupled with a grin that could turn maniacal in less than a second, Boog seems to have evolved from a bop-happy bully to a vast and endless void.

Yo has somewhat figured out that the best reaction to give to the stare is no reaction. To act unphased in the eye of evil always throws Boog into a pickle, and he slowly loses interest. She’s well-tamed anyway, Yo thinks bitterly. Besides, when Boog loses interest in her, he almost always channels it towards Fanboy, who still doesn’t understand why fighting back would intrigue Boog more. When those piercing blue eyes meet his, Fanboy stares right back, invoking a battle he knows he’ll lose.

Fanboy thinks about his child, queasy at the thought of Boog boring into his offspring without mercy, utilizing that same stare to intimidate and control. A few days following the announcement, Boog wants to drive home his complete and utter authority over their living situation. He visits the room bearing cleaning supplies and for the first time in a decade, the room is sprayed, mopped, and disinfected top to bottom, even given a fresh coat of soft yellow paint to invoke a sense of warmth. It’s Boog’s way of illustrating his power, his way of showing “mercy”, if one could even call it that. He orders Yo to stay put and Fanboy to help clean. Boog has never gotten used to the stench, and with Fanboy and Yo's baby on the way, he entertains this twisted sense of duty to make certain conditions "livable." In his mind, he is their keeper, their owner, and he must take care of their offspring. 

Boog whistles unevenly as he works, messily coating the walls as Fanboy tirelessly scrubs the floor with a scrub brush. He watches amazed as layers of dirt are loosened and washed away, revealing the drab concrete beneath. Poor Fanboy tries so hard that his dry skin cracks from the chemicals and his palms gain blisters. Before long, it hurts even to apply light pressure onto his hands, but he powers through regardless. Sensing her partner’s pain, Yo offers to help, but Boog turns her down. She is expecting, after all, he says, and she mustn't overtire.

At the direct citation of her pregnancy, Yo is awash with dread. She protectively hugs her middle and mumbles under her breath. Boog’s confident smile falls and the room’s brisk atmosphere dissolves into dead air. Fanboy watches Boog’s face contort and shoulders tense solidly. For a fearful moment, it appears as if he is preparing to strike something, but then his stance relaxes. Yo says nothing.

Boog tips his head back and laughs. For once, it is not filled with sadistic mirth but sounds rather weary. Fanboy shakes his head, confused. Looks are exchanged between the men, one filled with restraint, the other rife with suspicion. Boog’s face is tired, Fanboy realizes, the pain of his hands shrinking the more his mind drifts off.

It is a wonder, Fanboy thinks to himself, that as much as he and Yo have grown and changed, for however long it has been, Boog too has grown to look might a bit different from how Fanboy remembers. He doesn’t wear his Frosty Mart uniform much anymore, and the last time he did it was wrinkled and musty. His muscles, while mighty, are growing weathered. He has some paunch, and his hair has grown longer, like a mullet. Fanboy fingers his own shaggy locks, wondering how much lengthier Boog will allow them to grow before he decides to violently hack them off.

Fanboy doesn’t realize he’s staring until Boog begins to stare back, his once chiseled features rather sunken. Boog’s chapped lips pull back to reveal a grimy smile, and Fanboy falters and clutches his rag to his chest. Boog couldn’t be proud of _that_ , he thinks with horror. Boog’s eyes have gone under the least amount of change. They remain as glazed and as blue and as eerie as ever, unsettling their victims in each glance without fail.

Boog moves on, and together, captive and captor remove the smelly comforter and pile it by the door. Yo stands and crosses her arms over her chest, the scent of cleaning chemicals burning her nostrils and reddening her eyes. She faintly remembers scrubbing her hands with soap in the girl’s bathroom at school. That smelly soap…she smiles a little. It may have smelled just as strong as this.

The floor doesn’t stay bare for long; Boog leaves and returns with a fresh comforter. Fanboy has a sudden urge to pump his fists but stays himself for fear of reprimanding. The comforter is pale blue in color speckled with white stars and is soft like silk. Fanboy traces the pattern, unable to remember the last time he has seen a star. Yo buries her greasy face in it and inhales the fresh linen. This, they could have had years ago. Lord only knows how much dirt and grime had built up in the last one. She then sits back and cranes her neck to marvel at the astronomical changes in the room. Ignoring the severe lack of natural light and other essential commodities, it could almost pass for a nursery. 

Boog watches their face with a proud, fragmented smile. Now, he declares, it's time for them to have a thorough wash. Fanboy heaves a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. He’s been feeling extra cold and grimy as of late.

Sitting still unprompted, the captives impatiently wait until Boog clears the room of cleaning supplies and returns with a plethora of soaps, shampoos, and conditioners. The extension is surprising. Usually, a single bar of soap would fall under Boog’s category of sufficiency, but today, by low standards, he’s being “generous”. Yo’s eyes light up as he hands her a brush and Fanboy a black comb. Yo delights in the soft bristles and drags them through her matted mane. Fanboy drags his fingers along the teeth of the plastic comb and giggles at the sound it makes, scraping it against his own teeth to create the same sound. 

Dragging the hose through the door slot, Boog briskly refills the metal basin. Looking back and forth between it and his prisoners, he realizes how considerably smaller it seems compared to years ago when Fanboy and Yo were young. 

Excited, Fanboy hops in the tub when the steamy water reaches halfway and carefully helps Yo step in. The floor is slippery, but they lower themselves into the warm pool without trouble. Fanboy gushes with relief as always when he's embraced by all-encompassing heat. Yo leans back into him with a tender smile as he rests his chin on her shoulder. Moments as peaceful and as open as this, when they can relax, are seldom. Whenever the chance appears, they grab and cherish it.

Boog waits until the tub is filled, sneaking glances at his captives as they get comfortable. He switches off the hose and watches with surprise as Fanboy nuzzles Yo's nape with an animal-like rumble. He’s visibly excited, nuzzling and squeezing and kissing his love. Yo pushes back into his doting hold and sinks into the water until only her shoulders and head are visible. They're smiling and acting as though they've forgotten Boog is there. Like they've become entranced.

It's rarer than rare for Boog to witness them all content like this instead of huddled in fear. He finds it endlessly fascinating their ignorance of the purpose of such carnal behavior, that those actions are what caused the pregnancy in the first place. He takes his leave instead of harming them again, taking the hose with him.

Fanboy and Yo don’t miss him. As soon as the door shuts, they intimately embrace, hands entwined as tightly as possible. After they've finished, Fanboy hugs Yo's large waist and gently kisses her. Yo melts into it, hooking her arms securely around his neck. Pulling away, Yo softly urges him to wash up, as it might be a long time before they are allowed to bathe again. She's right as usual, and they have a relaxing time scrubbing the grime and sweat off their skin 'till they glow white. 

...

A few weeks later and Boog begins another health check, which opens the door to a new issue. He carefully approaches the young woman, who surrenders when the man meddles into her personal space--she's fearful of invoking his wrath even though he has ceased hurting her altogether. His smile, gentle tone of voice, and calm aura are miles different from his usual mannerisms, tools to gain her trust.

Yo is astonished that he thinks he could possibly earn her trust after committing such atrocities. Despite her years of coldness, Boog seems to have grown a wall around his mind and behaves like everything is normal as if he genuinely can't understand the harm he's causing. He even has the nerve to look surprised when she tries to escape. Yo is no fool. She may be dependent on this monster, but she will never accept him. Not as a mentor, a friend, or anything. 

Yo's distant attitude, while irritating, is tolerable, but Fanboy is another story. After watching Boog practically drooling over his partner, the young man has made it his life's mission to break them out, unable to bear the thought of surrendering his child to the constant pain they have experienced for the last decade. He wants his baby to see the skies rather than the cracked ceiling, feel the grass under his or her feet instead of dirty concrete, relish in the warmth of the sun instead of cold, stifling air, and hear noise other than the desolate generator hum. Fanboy and Yo lived under the sun for at least eleven years before the kidnapping; imagine never once experiencing it? Unacceptable. 

Incentivized, Fanboy takes advantage of every single encounter to try to beat his captor. An unexpected attack shocks Boog during his next visit. He drops the paper plate of food to shield his face as Fanboy leaps and throws punches with surprising strength, all while screeching this high-pitched war cry. It takes effort to pry Fanboy's sharp nails out of his flesh, longer to force him down, and forever to bellow for submission over the volume of Yo's frightened cries. Unlike usual when Fanboy cows in submission immediately, he holds out, staring right into Boog’s eyes with matching intensity.

He leaves, ragged, rife with minor injuries, and shocked by Fanboy's will to beat him. In retrospect, he probably shouldn't be surprised. Fanboy isn't the same weak little boy who could be stunned by a single bop. He has grown taller, sharper, and even with his scant amount of muscle, thin contours, and boney joints, his attacks are not easily subdued. 

Boog scratches at his chin, a little shaken as he wonders what to do. He can't punish them via withholding food and water; Yo needs sustenance more than ever, and he can't risk sabotaging her health by playing this pathetic game with Fanboy. Boog straightens, eyes narrowing with determination. They are under HIS control. If Fanboy wants to throw himself in the line of fists, so be it. He will be inviting punishment only to himself, not to Yo.

...

Boog shouldn't have made it evident that he's not laying a finger on Yo because now Fanboy holds NOTHING back; not even the cloud of punishment hovering threateningly above can subdue his efforts. It's never said aloud, but without Yo's life on the line, Fanboy knows he has nothing to lose. Bring it on, he thinks confidently. He can take it! Among flying fists and wordless snarls, Boog can see the newly-rekindled fire in Fanboy’s eyes and knows that escalation is unavoidable if he keeps this up.

Every day Boog arrives with food and water only to be attacked by his prisoner, nails scratching, teeth biting, and head-butting: Fanboy utilizes his skull's rigid flat to bloody Boog's nose and send him reeling to the floor. From there, Fanboy pounces and inflicts as much damage as possible. 

Yo always sits on the sidelines, either silent or begging for Fanboy to stop. Boog can at least admire his shrewd female captive for her basic awareness levels, but even her protests aren't enough to stop Fanboy. He clearly believes that her life is far more important than his own, a trait Boog would find charming if he weren't on the receiving end of ambush. It goes on for several months until finally, Boog can stand it no more. One day he makes a careless and rage-induced decision, which puts Fanboy's straight line of attacks to rest.

Snapping and grunting like a beast, Boog ensnares Fanboy by the hair and forces him to the cold hard ground. He is quickly losing his nerve. The literal second he walked in through the door, Fanboy claws at his eyes, nearly scratching them out, only missing by an inch. Boog was already clammy with anxiety about hiding his injuries, and this ambush is driving him to the point of no return. Unaware of the pending danger, Fanboy snarls and manages to deliver a resounding kick to Boog's groin, resulting in exploding pain for the man, all while Yo screams for him to stop. A satisfying victory for the younger male despite the burning pain in his scalp. Sweat trickles down Boog's beet-red face as he weakly attempts to reel back his anger, to cool her temper, but Fanboy just won't stop _moving_. 

This is what Boog has been doing for years, Fanboy yells at the man. Isn't it annoying? 

That question is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Boog's vision goes red and blurry, the rising heat within an uncontrollable inferno. As always, Boog fails to consider the consequences; he snatches the offending leg with both hands, and with a guttural yell, _snaps_ it like a toothpick.

The break is loud and sharp, like a gunshot, and it catches them all off-guard. Yo freezes wide-eyed, Boog stares at his hands, and Fanboy stares off into space like his mind is still trying to register what has happened. 

He ain’t EVER gon’ let them go! Boog promises that with a bellow. And nobody is going to save them! It ain’t gon’ happen!

Fanboy's blood-curling scream drowns the short-lived silence, snapping Yo out of her fear-induced shock and drawing Boog out of his rage-induced trance. Shaking his head to clear it, Boog shakily releases Fanboy's mangled leg. Another scream as it hits the ground, disturbing the break.

Fanboy wriggles uselessly, clueless as to how to handle the pain. Tears stream down his face in rivers and form puddles on the floor as he chokes for air, his sweaty face going white. Lip trembling, Boog stands and lifts his chin. Having had enough, Fanboy scrambles for cover, his reddening appendage bent at an unnatural angle. Yo trembles in her corner and goes green as Fanboy screams in agony again and again and begs for her to make it stop. She makes an effort to soothe him from her corner, but he is beyond help.

Boog vacates the premise, his anxiety has gone through the roof. The results of his impulsivity are going to complicate things dearly. A break like that requires the attention of a medical expert, someone far above Boog's paygrade. Without proper treatment, Boog knows there’s no way to prevent Fanboy’s crippling future. He leans back against the door and trembles, trying to think optimistically.

Fanboy: unable to walk, completely dependent…that could serve Boog well, actually. Boog perks. Not only that, but Fanboy is unlikely to attack again, lest he endures a punishment like that for a second time. Boog grins evilly, not at all disturbed by the idea of breaking Fanboy’s other leg. In fact, he’s rather interested.

On the other hand, Fanboy’s injury will more than likely plant seeds of stress into Yo's weak mind, but Boog won’t separate them. He hasn't ever tried, and he doesn't think he ever will. Heavens, he doesn't even want to! That would defeat the entire purpose...

Boog's eyes glaze over as his mind jumps through incredible hoops to find a reason behind his actions that won't make him hate himself. Finally, he settles on one that sounded fine. He'd just been trying to nourish his two wards and check on the female's health, but like a wild animal protecting its mate, Fanboy became aggressive, and Boog had to use self-defense. He nods, his tense body relaxing. This isn't his fault. He can stand to tolerate the younger man's actions as long as he's dominant.

Don't reason with it, he tells himself. Don't argue with it. Just dominate. It'll be a breeze! Boog is so sure of this, but when he returns the next day with a plate of food, Fanboy attacks yet again, shimmying along the ground and sinking his teeth into Boog's leg with vigor. The implication behind the choice area for injury isn't lost on Boog. Fanboy glares up at the man, his pale face taut with fury and pain. Behind him, his swollen red leg drags uselessly. Further back, Yo is begging for Fanboy to stop, her eyes swollen with tears. 

After prying his leg out of Fanboy's mouth, Boog kicks the younger male away and throws the glass plate at the wall in a fit, smashing it against the wall inches from Yo's head. Yo ducks for cover and Boog freezes up in disbelief--he'd nearly hit her! Fanboy yelps hoarsely and tries to crawl to the frozen young woman, but Boog grabs his broken leg and twists it, causing explosions of pain to detonate around the area. Fanboy flops around like a panfish in Boog's iron grip, whispery bleats of agony escaping his chapped lips.

Boog bares his teeth and moves his gargantuan hands to the uninjured leg, fully prepared to shatter it. Fortunately, his sweat dislodges his grip, and he proceeds to snap the uninjured leg's ankle instead. He growls in frustration but doesn’t have another go at attempting the break.

Fanboy's vision goes white, and he promptly passes out, the trauma too much for his frail body to handle. Boog shoves the leg, panting. Yo trembles, chalk-white, while her love lies in utter degradation. He's been defeated but will be awake soon, the man realizes. He can't keep doing this day after day. People will start asking questions about the multiple scratches and bruises on his face and arms. He winces at the bloody bite mark on his ankle. He needs to do something fast.

Thinking quickly, he retrieves a chain, bolts, and additional tools. Working speedily, he fastens Fanboy's broken leg to the wall opposite of Yo, who's too frightened to move or even protest. As Boog surveys his effort, Fanboy stirs, his lax face scrunching at the horrible pain. Once he registers the chain, he panics and implores the man to release him.

Boog responds with a hard bop to the face and turns to check on the young woman, who squeezes herself into a corner. Taking deep breaths to calm down, Boog gently pulls her forward and gives her a glance-over. Her hollowed cheeks are filling out, thanks to the healthier food portions he supplies. Additionally, her belly has swollen to nearly twice its original size. Better yet, there's no sign of illness or infection. Eyeing the scattered bits of food, Boog casually cleans the mess and sweeps the glass into a dust bin. He does return with fresh food but only offers it to Yo. The young woman can't accept it. She timidly asks for permission to share, but even Fanboy shakes his head, far more concerned about her welfare than his own.

Defeated, Yo eats her meal in a daze. Boog stays to make sure every single bite is swallowed. Fanboy can feel his stomach clench with hunger, but it's nothing compared to the stabbing in his leg. His strained gasps and whimpers prompt Yo to plead for Boog to take Fanboy to the hospital, but that glazed look has returned to the man's icy blue eyes.

Yo swallows down the last morsel, feeling full and sick. She keeps her gaze down as Boog stands, gives her a final pat on the head, and leaves. Yo waits until his footsteps fade before scuttling to Fanboy and bursting into tears at the state of his twisted leg and his broken ankle. Fanboy tries to assure her that it doesn't hurt, but he cannot hide the awful bruising and swelling nor his tears and whimpers. Out of options, Yo grabs the new blanket and rips a strip of it. Fanboy bites his bony wrists to hold back screams as she works around the chain to wrap up the breaks. After the deed is done, he's about ready to pass out, shivering and shuddering.

Now, they _both_ need a doctor, Yo jokes, but it falls relatively flat. Nonetheless, Fanboy gifts her a crooked grin before passing out in her arms. Still shaken by this latest incident, Yo trembles as she awkwardly rests his head in her lap. There's almost no room now with her large stomach in the way. 

She stiffens. Their child...their precious baby...is going to live like this...? How on earth could one live like this? Yo and Fanboy have lived on the hope of escape and the knowledge of the wide world beyond these borders, but to be born into this? It’s more than cruel; it’s evil for Boog to expect their little son or daughter to someday bear the same pain his or her parents have. It’s wicked. Absolutely wicked.

Yo suffers a minor panic attack, nerves unraveling as Fanboy lies unconscious. She tries to convince herself that she hasn't accepted this fate by any means, but it's difficult even to hope. To think. To feel. She isn’t equipped to handle this, never has been. Mentally, she has grown little, unable to progress with a severe mental stimulation deficit. Her speech is underdeveloped, despite reaching adulthood, and Fanboy's cognizance is in a graver state. He forgets simple words that would quickly come to mind under ordinary conditions, and his sentences are jumbled, rife with gaps and syntax inconsistencies. Jumbled, just like her mind. Yo closes her eyes and counts by fives. Slowly but surely, her nerves begin to calm.

It's quiet at least, without Boog around. Yo inhales and exhales gradually and deeply while stroking along the sharp edge of Fanboy’s skull with her quivering thumb. It’s for him she worries almost as much as her unborn child. She isn’t scientifically well-versed in the state of his mentality, nor can she provide any real help to boost his stimuli as her own are mush. She shudders, her breathing pattern hindering. God only knows what extent of damage has been done, what lasting effects will plague them for the rest of their lives.

Feeling a small kick in her abdomen, Yo chews a fingernail and weeps, feeling so hopeless it hurts. If only she were allowed to gaze upon the earth, she could die happy. She is certain that if Boog were to release them back into the world that they would quickly absorb its wonders like sponges, soaking up the knowledge and marvels, and catching up with all of their friends in kind.

The sky, the grass, the sun, all these are just out of their reach. Impossibly close. Yo feels her panic begin to climb, so she goes on counting.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty…

The repetition helps her panic subside tremendously, and she sighs with relief as the buzz in her brain quiets. Her relief is boosted when Fanboy’s dreary eyes blink open and gaze at her with love. Despite the immense pain coursing through his body, he smiles so earnestly that she begins to cry anew.

…

As usual, it's gloomy but quiet, the absent hum of the generator granting Fanboy and Yo a beautiful silence, which is surprisingly soothing. Yo presses into Fanboy's warm hold, carefully avoiding his broken appendages, with trail behind him like fragmented sticks: the sad results of pushing a maniac too far.

Yo does not adjudicate aloud his decisions to physically escalate his interactions with Boog, but inwardly, she couldn’t be more disapproving. She admires Fanboy's bravery, and she wishes just as powerfully to be free, but she would rather he not risk his life. One, fighting that power-house of a man will only result in graver injury. Two, why plot against the hand that feeds them? Three, he could kill them, leave their bodies to rot without anyone ever knowing they were in here: a repulsive but plausible theory.

Of course, none of this is Fanboy's fault. Yo feels guilty, always unreasonably, and sometimes for no reason, so setting a self-help routine as an appropriate aid is fitting. She's likewise aware of his own guilt, a horrible feeling that eats away at the edges of his mind, and she'd rather not trigger that by telling him the truth of what she thinks.

A small, subtle movement stirs from within, disrupts her troubling thoughts, and against all odds, she smiles. 

Housing a whole 'nother person, one tiny enough to fit in her pinkie, sparks complicated emotions. When she first registered the movement, she was frightened, her own body feeling so alien. Now she is unafraid of those precious kicks, happy even. In a dwelling that has corrupted their naiveté, this new person is the last bit of innocence they have, the embodiment of pure virtue, and she is so grateful for it. 

There's another kick, more prominent. Fanboy often jokes that only a boy could kick that hard. His enthusiasm points toward he's really hoping for a son. Yo rests her hand over Fanboy's, which is perched across her stomach. Her upsetting thoughts give way to faith. This gift has furnished them with a new purpose, a new _meaning_ to life. It's incredibly refreshing after ten years of nothing but each other. Her childhood dreams of becoming a mother and Fanboy's of becoming a father are a reality, and it will soon be their responsibility to afford the best life for their offspring. 

Fanboy accepts this obligation with grace. He falls in love with his unborn baby, a perfect blend of him and her he KNOWS said baby will be. He devotes everything to make Yo comfortable during her trying pregnancy: he sneaks his rations onto her plate (despite her protests), provides her warmth, massages her aching, atrophied muscles, bathes her, and continuously chatters about the baby: gender, names, looks, and mannerisms. The poor young man's perception of this miniature world is as simple as ever, but he works earnestly to be a good 'husband,' and Yo shows her genuine appreciation for him continually. 

They check Fanboy's leg often, but it doesn't seem to be healing at all. He does his best to keep his weight off of it, and Yo rewraps it daily, but they're worried that he won't be able to walk again, a notion that makes Fanboy dreadfully anxious. His broken ankle, while less severe, is the same story. He asks Boog for ice and is actually granted a fresh pack in a plastic-baggy every day. At least the pain is lessening.

While Fanboy adapts to this physical pain, Yo harbors a disturbing secret: she is growing used to confinement, a prisoner with a life sentence accepting her fate. Fanboy doesn't hold a similar sentiment. When confronted, Yo shrugs helplessly while Fanboy scolds that she shouldn't waste time planning for the rest of their lives _here_. He says this with vigor, his emerald eyes passionately ablaze. Yo, to his shock, doesn't match his enthusiasm. She agrees that this is the worst place imaginable to raise a son or daughter.

Fanboy waits, confused. Why accept it, then?

Yo thinks for a while, choosing her next words carefully. It's been too long, an eternity, actually. They've been waiting forever to be rescued. Not only that: they've made multiple escape efforts with no success. They've nobody and nothing, without choice. She pauses, her face stoic, compliant. Fanboy sucks in a breath, his heart going cold. 

Yo sighs faintly. They're never getting out of here, she mumbles. It's foolish to think otherwise. Harnessing the wind is hopeless, but adjusting the sail to lessen the damage is wise. 

Frustrated, Fanboy grabs her shoulders--remembers she's gestating--and releases them. He wants to take her side and make her happy, but when she is speaking of things so pessimistically, it’s too disturbing to accept! Giving up and growing tolerance for this disgusting treatment is admitting defeat! No child of his is going to grow up trapped in this claustrophobic Hell! He makes that clear, growing louder and louder until he is practically shouting. Yo makes no indication that she’s agreeing.

Fanboy releases her shoulders and clutches his hands to his chest. She’s not kidding, he whispers. She actually believes that there’s no hope for them, no reason to go on fighting. What about their baby, he points out? Isn’t he or she worth fighting for?

Yo’s eyes flash. Of course, she snaps, the baby is worth every bruise, wound, and lesion. That’s not the point. If able, they would’ve for sure broken out by now and provide a good life for their baby. In fact, she’s more than willing to die for the baby. Here’s the thing, though, she says softly. Yo shakes her head, resigned. It hurts her deeply to say this to him; she doesn't want to stifle his determination, but he can't live in delusion. She takes the distressed young man's hands in hers, looks him in the eye, and orders him to stop resisting. Give up on those childish dreams of heroically breaking out. Just accept it. No matter what they do, Boog will win in the end. They might as well learn to live with it. And if not that, well, they shouldn't get their hopes up.

Depression is speaking, not Yo, but Fanboy doesn't understand. He is beside himself with shock. Yo is his prison mate, his partner, his dearest! Finding the strength or motivation to carry out an escape without support is awful, but betrayal is a deeper stab to the gut. They cannot give up, not on themselves! How dare she abandon him?

Yo mistakes the inferno in his eyes and the tremble in his hands for worry, and she gently reaffirms her verdict to roll with the punches.

Fanboy's hand decelerates a moment before impact, but it's too late. Yo reels, jarred by the sudden pain flaring up on the left side of her face. Fanboy stares in bewilderment at her and then at his reddening palm, the echo of the slap ringing in his ears. 

Fanboy’s mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. His broken brain struggles with itself, trying to concoct a reason for the assault, but nothing is justified. It doesn't make sense. He would never hurt Yo! He wouldn't! He _couldn't,_ and yet--Yo presses her fingers against her smarting cheek and blinks back tears--he has. 

Fanboy's heart plummets as he explodes with apologies, clutching Yo and begging for forgiveness, but the young woman is in no mood for it. She rips away and covers herself up with the blanket. Fanboy attempts to join her, but Yo tucks in the blanket's edges to ensure that her makeshift reservation cannot be breached. He tries in vain, but the chain attached to his broken leg causes too much pain.

Full of regret, Fanboy scooches backward, the back of his head smacking the wall. He covers his eyes, his stomach churning with a pang of immense guilt he hasn't suffered under for a long time. The liability he felt for leaving Chum Chum behind is the guilt he feels for harming Yo in a way he never intended. This is not her fault, not the way she thinks nor the pain they're suffering. Taking anger out on _her_ is unfair. She's carrying their baby! What is he thinking?! He heaves, appalled at himself for having injured his only light in the dark. What a horrible person he is to have struck her, he thinks miserably.

The shaking fists at his sides grab his attention. He slowly lifts them and promptly drives the offending one into the concrete floor. His hand smarts with pain as his knuckles crack against the surface, but he does it again, turning his brain off to physical pain as he tries to destroy what has hurt Yo. 

_Crack. Crack. Crack!_

Soon, Fanboy’s fist is a bloody mess. Good. It gets what it deserves. Fanboy shuts his eyes and shudders at the momentary relief. His hand is in agony, and it is hard to move, but Fanboy can't bring himself to care. So much of him is already broken. Why should this change things? Without Yo's support, without hope... He can't. He just…can’t.

Boog checks in on his captives a few hours later, surprised to discover they're sleeping apart for the first time. Yo is curled up in a corner, the old comforter wrapped around her, while Fanboy sits awkwardly across from her, arms wrapped around his waist to stay warm. 

Boog loudly clears his throat. Fanboy and Yo rouse, but they don't acknowledge his presence nor each other. Perplexed, Boog sets down the plate of food and waits. Zilch. They do not even appear interested. At first, alarm bells blare and Boog backs off, believing this could be another trick. He frowns and crouches before Fanboy and checks his temperature. The skin's chilled, but Fanboy's pale, dull face spells illness. This behavior is highly unusual. Not wasting time, Boog asks what's wrong, clenching his fists just in case of rebellion.

Fanboy lurches, laughter building up in his chest at the blatant absurdity of the question. What's wrong? What's _right?_ He has half a mind to spit right in Boog’s face, but… Fanboy's brain shuts down, and his rage rushes out of him like air escaping a balloon. What's the use? He hasn't the energy to point out the mile-long list of evils they've endured anyway, nor the drive to withstand another beating, so he just breathes out a dull "nothing."

Boog frowns and considers asking Yo, but he has a feeling doing so will harbor the same result. Judging Fanboy's impassiveness and the separation, he quickly concludes that they have been quarreling. He sighs. Well, the best thing to do is wait it out. He has long assumed that the bond between his captives is unbreakable, only strengthening under duress. Anything he does to drive them apart is meant to bring them closer together.

For the most part, it worked, his cruel actions manipulating them to take comfort from each other. However, it appears that this time, his actions have driven a wedge between them. Boog folds his arm, remiss to admit that he was sorely mistaken. It doesn’t feel right to remain in their presence; the brute stands and vacates the room, a cavity growing in the base of his stomach. It’s been a while since he was in the dark like this regarding his captives. He wonders how long their silence will last.

...

Fanboy and Yo don't stay apart for long. For as heated as their argument has gotten, the cold of the room forces them to rejoin beneath the comforter, albeit distant. Yo does not face or speak to Fanboy, merely rolls over and a quiet grunt. Fanboy squirms as he drags his legs beneath the blanket. He whispers Yo’s name and gently pats her shoulder to grab her attention, but she doesn’t respond. Fanboy sags but tries to stay positive. Perhaps Yo will feel better after a long rest. Goodness knows he could use one. He’s sorry, he repeats quietly, peering over his shoulder to see if she’ll react. 

There’s no answer, only soft even breathing, and assuming she has already fallen asleep, Fanboy allows himself to pass out.

…

Even Boog recognizes the potential problem this wedge could cause. Fanboy and Yo haven't reconciled, and as a result, their mental health is on a steep decline. During their first weeks of captivity, Boog was concerned about this, and ten years later, his misgivings are not unfounded. This true isolation is poisoning them like never before. It isn’t enough to move his heart and change his mind about letting them go. Oh-ho, no.

Fanboy follows directions but puts in the barest minimum of effort, regardless of threats or punishment. Usually, he engages Boog in a physical altercation, but recently: nothing. He's not even hostile. Just lifeless. Even the smallest movement seems to drain him.

Yo doesn't lack physical strength, but she relies on Fanboy for support whenever she teeters a mental precipice, and without him, she's lost. Days are impossible for her to get through without a panic attack wreaking her mind, and with nobody to bolster her, she's desperate. She has begun to ask _Boog_ for reassurance, validating the gravity of the situation.

It's odd for Boog to see them so disconnected. He wonders how they'll fare.

...

_In a dark, silent world, Fanboy stands like a mute statue. He cannot see, cannot hear, cannot breathe. He can only feel the prickly wind against his bare body, which is surely white and blue with cold. When he tries to close his fists, he discovers how stiff and numb they are growing. It’s a pain he’s all too familiar with, but tenfold the intensity. The wind picks up, forcing him from his stationary position._

_Fanboy takes a step back and gasps. He feels as if the flesh of his feet has been ripped away, stubbornly held by the ice lying dormant beneath them. More stabbing pain and warmth of blood. Fanboy regains his footing somehow and begins to stumble about. He can’t remember where he is going. Where is he going?_

_H…H…_

_Fanboy can’t remember. He makes an attempt to regain warmth by wrapping his arms around himself, but to no avail. This cold is literally bone-chilling._

_He tries to speak, but his chords are frozen. All he can do is walk, or limp, rather, to nowhere, so that’s what he does, shuffling one foot after the other in a jagged dance of pain and misery. He knows what it is to hurt, to suffer, and thinks in a moment of insanity that he can manage this. He just needs to keep walking. Keep trying, no matter what happens, no matter what may stand before him in an effort to keep him cowed._

_Where is Yo?_

_The thought hits him like a fist, but he doesn’t stop walking. He cannot even if he wants to, which he does, because Yo is surely lost and needs her partner. That’s what he thinks as he stumbles on. Yo needs him. Yo needs him. Yo needs him. He must be there for her as she’d be for him._

_But she won’t, his mind sighs. She’s given up, given in to the dark. She has accepted it._

_Fanboy winces, feels hot tears trailing down his icy face. That’s all the reason more to endure. What kind of hero would he be abandoning someone in need? It would take away part of him, part of what makes him **Fanboy**._

_But you’re aren’t Fanboy anymore. Go on without her, his mind whispers, and Fanboy’s eyes finally open to beautiful blinding light._

_Go on. Let go, the voice whispers, sounding less like his own and more of an innocent. Accept the light you’ve craved. You deserve it._

_Fanboy absorbs the wave of warmth washing over his deprived being. His feet lose their numbness and he feels safe enough to ease the grip on himself. For so long, he’s prayed warmth and freedom, but, what about Yo? He can’t leave her behind._

_Even the most longed of changes can be sad, says the voice, because what we leave behind us is a part of us. We need to die in one life before we can begin anew._

_That makes sense or supposed it would if he were younger. Fanboy laughs through his tears a little and looks down._

_A boy dressed in purple and green stands glaring before him like a guard. His arms are crossed and his glowing peachy face is a little red with annoyance. The area surrounding his converse shoes is teeming with life; grasses and daisies and poppies galore. He looks miles different than the disgruntled broken adult his counterpart has become. Fanboy wants to break down, thinking about how that innocence will soon be stolen. He wants to warn the child of the dangers to come, but the child beats him to it._

**_Are we gonna leave yet? It’s been like, what, how long?_ ** _The boy counts off his gloved fingers one by one. **A billion years?** He tilts his head quizzically, expectantly, and puts his hands on his hips._

_Fanboy, or Lance, shrugs with as much nonchalance as he can muster. Part of him doesn’t have the heart while another wants to say: Who knows, Bud? It could be a billion more._

_The young boy groans. **That’s just too long to wait!** he exclaims as if the elder of the two has spoken aloud **. I wanna go home right now!** He stamps his foot indignantly, and Lance’s slight grin falls before he gasps and smacks himself in the face._

_Home! Of course! How could he forget? They need to go, Lance hurriedly tells the boy. Where’s the exit? He receives an exasperated shrug in response._

**_I dunno. I keep looking and looking but I can’t find anything._ **

_Ohhhh. Lance understands. He’s so sorry._

**_Everything_ ** _, the young boy whispers, looking suddenly cold and pale. **Everything hurts so much. Why can’t I just go home?**_

_Home. Right. That’s where he’s supposed to be heading. He’d still be walking but for the one in his path. Lance’s heart nearly skips a beat as the boy’s pale skin becomes molten with bruises and cuts, his once proud and happy face becoming sunken and dull. Lance shakes his head, itching to comfort the child but unable to reach him._

**_How much longer?_ ** _The child croaks, wrapping his arms around his skinny waist identically to the way Lance does. **I’m tired of waiting.** His voice’s powerful inflection has gone, now brittle and weak. The child collapses, and Lance finally has the power to move._

_Lance swoops and catches his younger self before he smacks into the ground, the foliage now disintegrated. Fanboy, it’s okay, Lance comforts, heartbroken. You’re going to be fine._

_The young child gurgles. **I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?**_

_Don’t be sorry, Lance eases, his heart panging. You’ve done everything right._

**_Really?_ ** _Fanboy whimpers in return, body limp in his adult counterpart’s hold. **But I didn’t save anyone.**_

_Lance shakes his head and pulls the child close to his chest. He thinks about his recent actions. You…You don’t need to save anyone to be a hero, he admits. Being there for your friends and trying every day to be better? That’s…he trails, it slowly dawning on him. …That’s good!_

_Fanboy stifles a sob. **It’s not enough though, is it?**_

_Lance pauses and smiles. Maybe not, he admits. But it was your best, and that’s enough._

_Fanboy isn’t entirely convinced but sags in Lance’s hold as if releasing a heavy burden. He’s lighter and the bruises on his face have a yellow-green tint._

__

_**I’m so tired** _ _, he whispers, the bags under his eyes now visible as his lids flutter close._

_Then rest for a while, Lance says quietly. I’ll be here when you wake up._

_Fanboy vanishes a moment later, not in a cloud of ash or beam of light, but out of thin air. Lance stares at his empty arms for what seems like an eternity. The child doesn’t return. He looks at where the grasses were only to find a barren floor of icy rock. There’s no evidence at all that there could have once been a child named Fanboy but for the echo of the voice in his head._

_**It isn’t fair that only I should sleep. You ought to as well.** _

_Things have changed, Lance reminds himself. I can’t let go just yet. It’s not just about me or Chum Chum anymore._

_He lifts his head, gazing off into the distance, a slight heat in him blooming. I’m going to be a dad. The warmth bathes Lance in its heavenly glow. It does feel nice, he admits, spreading his arms out like the branches of a tree. Am I going to die soon?_

_There’s no answer._

_Fanboy lowers his arms and falls to his knees. If there’s even a chance of freedom, he’d rather stay. He can’t leave Yo behind and embrace death, even with the promise of Chum Chum one day soon appearing to him._

_Without warning, Lance’s head suffers a piercing pain, a screaming bouncing off the edges of his skull. Then, the powerful beating of drums. He covers his ears, but the sound is internal. He releases a scream of anguish and bashes his head against the ice, once, then twice._

_He curls up onto a floor of black frost._

_and--_

Fanboy jolts awake, his body like ice. With a gasp, he clutches his arms to gather his bearings. Ordinarily, a nightmare would prompt Yo to offer her solace, but now, she is sleeping feet away, unaware of his plight and kicking unconsciously at the wall. Fanboy shivers haggardly and watches her, his head pounding. He feels as empty as his stomach, as spread as butter over toast, for which he craves.

He whispers Yo’s name, but she doesn’t respond. It’s as if Fanboy has truly lost all semblance of whom he’s strived to be and is now getting his just desserts. He’s hardwired to interact with others, especially during times of stress. When he goes through a trying ordeal alone, a lack of emotional support and friendship can increase his anxiety and hinder his coping ability. Without Yo’s help, he could begin to look inward to fill the gap.

Really, though, this is his fault, isn’t it? If he hadn’t been aggressive with Yo, she’d be more than happy to indulge him, Fanboy’s guilty thoughts spit. Shattered, Fanboy begins to sob. His miserable sounds soon awaken Yo, whose heart fills with regret. She sighs and instructs him to take a deep breath, but he's hysterical, a guilt-ridden mess of tears and saliva.

After a few more wet heaves, Fanboy begs her to tell him what to do so she won't hate him anymore. At that, Yo sits up and stares at him, her eyes large with shock and hurt. That’s crazy, she insists, to say that she hates him. Nothing could be further from the truth!

The confusion in Fanboy's eyes is palpable and makes Yo’s heart hurt even more. The guilty thoughts in his head have no competition, she realizes. He isn’t able to fathom a reason why she should forgive him other than him paying retribution. But, but, he sobs, he's no better than Boog now. He hurt her! He made her cry! He's a horrible person! 

Not at all, Yo assures Fanboy, moving to grab his icy hand. It's not like that. She frowns at the bloody scabs on the poor appendage and carefully strokes it. Oh, Fanboy…she sighs…what has she done?

Fanboy sniffs and wipes his eyes with a free hand. It’s not her fault. He just wants to know why. Why she thinks giving up is the right choice. Yo stiffens at the word “choice” but explains as best she can. She’s been giving it a lot of thought, trying to figure out just why she’s giving in. After hours of careful contemplation, she believes she’s discovered the source of wanting.

She's just...tired. Tired of the fight. Tired of Fanboy hurting every time Boog arrives. Tired of hoping and wishing for rescue. She's just sick of... _being_ , to be honest. Sick of being alive, being a liability, a piece of bait for Boog to use against Fanboy. She is utterly useless in this room. Life in here is nothing more than an endless scroll with an empty inkwell. There’s nothing.

There’s something, Fanboy fiercely interrupts. She is worth fighting for, even if she thinks otherwise. Their children are worth fighting for and their friends too. If anything, _he's_ the useless one, losing every fight against Boog while invoking more wrath upon them all. At least she can provide him comfort when he needs it, but he's incapable of doing even that for her. Fanboy hangs his head with shame. Instead, he hurt her, and he's so, so, so sorry.

Yo smiles. She knows he never meant to hurt her; he just lost his temper. Likewise, she never meant to hurt him; she just needed a little alone time. She chuckles. Now _that’s_ an impossibility if they’ve ever heard one. Striking her was indeed a wrong thing to do, but in no way, shape, or form is Fanboy like Boog. Fanboy actually cares about Yo and wants to help her. He just apologized and shows genuine remorse. Yo lifts his chin and plants a kiss on his parted lips. He's a beautiful person, she says once she pulls away, and he's _forgiven_.

Fanboy stares in awe, unable to understand how she could possibly forgive him. Where her kindness stems from. How on Earth--?

Yo wraps Fanboy up in her arms and prompts him to weep with relief as she tells him that everything will be okay. 

...

Month nine arrives sooner than expected. Time is moving faster and Yo has grown unbelievably huge, leading Boog to believe that she might be expecting more than one, or their baby is going to be a chunky one. Neither Fanboy nor Yo clue in on these implications and Boog would rather keep it that way.

Boog is nervous of the other factors he has been negligent to look over. For instance: labor. He decides to use his next visit to inform them of the pain to come. At first, he says nothing, just clasps his hands together, unable to find the correct words. Fanboy puts an arm around Yo and rests his chin on the top of her head. He dislikes Boog's silence and glares pointedly. Even with his broken limbs, Fanboy's full of courage. On the other hand, Yo doesn't dare make eye-contact; she buries her face in the crook of Fanboy's neck and waits for Boog to leave.

The sight of these two young, broken people should shatter Boog's heart, but he only undergoes a mild twinge of discomfort. He glances at Yo's swollen middle and swallows hard. Boog knows all too well the relentless pain, suffering, and chance of death that comes with childbirth sans medical supervision. That scares him because he covets control. When Fanboy fell dangerously ill years ago, Boog felt the control slip from his grasp, and the only way to get that back meant nursing Fanboy back to health. The flu is one thing, but the trials of childbirth are way above his paygrade. If something were to go amiss, he could do nothing about it. Yo is strong, but not beyond the laws of anatomy. She and the child could die and leave behind Fanboy. When people get hurt, it should always be by his will. 

Watching Fanboy pour his blood, sweat, tears, and soul into caring for Yo convinces Boog that without her, Fanboy won't survive.

What now?

Boog is out of ideas. He sighs and rubs the space between his eyes. Fanboy watches, his hardened gaze flickering with curiosity. Boog lowers his hand and gazes at Fanboy, who he'd kept hostage for over ten years. He vaguely remembers his ten-year-old self, wandering around in a plastic bubble and happening upon a tiny, green-and-purple spectacle at the park. It couldn't have been older than two, playing happily in the sandbox alone. He wanted that. He tried to take that home and keep it for himself, but could not leave his bubble.

How the years pass. How times change. Before him, the young man and woman are unrecognizable, no longer colorful, cheerful children, but haggard, cowed adults. He is struck by the depth of what he sees in Fanboy's eyes. This is no animal-like creature who lived only to eat and play. Intelligence lies deep in those eyes, mysteries, secrets, and fiery spirit. He clears his throat, suddenly unable to think of anything but the empty yearning in his twisted soul.

Boog wants them, but not in the body. He wants admiration, wants a smile, and wants to see affection in the green eyes that are dark with suspicion and hatred. He wants to stir his captives up, wants them to accept him, to... He groans and holds his head in his hands. Oh, how he aches to begin anew so that Fanboy and Yo could give him their hearts and devotion.

There's no use pretending anymore.

He’s going to leave soon, he tells them, for the first time ever unable to meet their eyes. He’s not just going to leave the room itself, but the entire…area. Fanboy and Yo’s expressions remain relatively unchanged exempting the sparks in their eyes. Boog gestures aimlessly about. He needs to dump the old comforter and all the used cleaning supplies.

Thoughtful, Fanboy asks how long he will be gone. It’s a casual ask, but Boog tenses as if he’d been questioned about the meaning of life. It doesn’t go unnoticed by his captives, who glance at each other with confused interest. Fanboy risks a probe and utters the question aloud again.

Boog smiles tensely and reveals that he will be back at an unapprised time. Until then, they will need to sit tight and wait for said return. Boog stands, supplies them a curt farewell, and leaves without another word.

…

It doesn’t take long for Yo to figure that Boog has abandoned them. It comes as an honest shock, for Boog has invested so much time into them that it’s hard to believe he’d just leave for good. Yo rests a hand over her belly as the little one inside her kicks. She’s massively hungry, but all Boog has left them are a few water bottles and boxes of club crackers.

Just a few days following the abandonment, the meager supply is dwindling. Fanboy notices how the hunger is taking its toll on Yo. Not only is she constantly ravenous

Fanboy clings to hope. Even a week or two after the abandonment, he refuses to concede. Perhaps Boog is just late, he suggests, to which Yo rolls her eyes. Either way, she supposes it shouldn’t surprise her. Boog has never cared about them enough to free them, and he’s always left them for days on end.

Yo is very worried about feeding herself and the baby, especially while Fanboy is starving alongside her. She almost feels selfish to crave, despite the feeling being completely natural AND she’s pregnant. She KNOWS she needs more than him, but resists the urge to steal an extra portion of food until the pangs in her stomach are too much to bear. It’s an ache, an empty squeezing in her gut that begs for sustenance at all times and she can’t resist the urges any longer.

One time, when she’s certain Fanboy has fallen fast asleep, Yo quietly lumbers over to the pile of club cracker boxes and waters they have stowed in the corner. She can’t wait any longer to eat. As silently as possible, Yo reaches into one of the boxes and carefully pulls out one of the plastic-sealed columns of crackers. This is going to be loud, she realizes with dismay, but presses on anyway. Pursing her lips, Yo grips the seal with her two thumbs and forefingers. The wrapper crinkles, the noise sharp and obvious over the hum of the generator. Yo’s heart pounds and she waits until she knows Fanboy’s still asleep.

It’s okay.

Yo gasps and whips her head back in Fanboy’s direction. He’s awake. She stammers and begins to replace the crackers, but Fanboy assures her that he doesn’t mind. It’s practical for her to eat more. His words soothe her consciousness, and she’s able to scarf down about four crackers before guilt overwhelms her.

When Yo wakes up, Fanboy kisses her nose with a loving good morning. Yo smiles and rests her forehead against his. Nothing can dampen his spirits it seems with the baby’s due date drawing nearer. He claims to have started making a list of names and asks if Yo wants to help. To his surprise, Yo declines, leaving him all the creative freedom. In that case, he shrugs, can she try opening the door?

It’s a serious ask, despite how ludicrous an idea it is in reality. There isn’t a chance that Boog’s left that door unlocked, and even if he had, neither of them are in any shape to try and open it. Yo tries to protest, but Fanboy’s wide puppy-dog eyes break down her defenses, and she relents. Fine, she grumbles, deciding to indulge him. She heads for the door, shivering, and gives it a hefty shove. See? She strains and wipes her brow. Not budging.

Before he can ask her to, she carefully hunches over and peers through the slot. Nothing. Just more darkness, as usual. Fanboy sags disappointedly but thanks her for trying. Yo hobbles back beneath the blanket and snuggles into Fanboy’s arms. Apologetically rubbing her frigid arms, Fanboy rests his chin atop her head and hums.

There really is nothing left to do but wait, is there? She sighs, rubbing an eye. Fanboy gives a small sound of uncertainty and carefully pulls away. They can pretend, he suggests, at least for a little while before Boog comes back, right?

They can pretend, Yo agrees, that they aren't doomed.


	7. Because Little Miracles

**Author's Note: Even though it's nearly over, I'll return often to look for grammar mistakes. I hope you have a good read, everyone.**

* * *

Chapter Seven: Because Little Miracles 

Dark that forges love is the same that births its testament. Darkness makes humans cheat, makes them fear, and grow paranoid. It often implores assemblies, but to encourage love is a rarity, a shining light tethered to a hideous anglerfish. If things were normal, Fanboy and Yo could have grown into fine adults and an even finer couple equipped for labor. However, years of isolation have dumbed their minds, making it difficult to understand, communicate, and think. The murk is a cloak of ignorance.

Preparing for the birth, they sustain what little Boog's left for them: ten water bottles and three boxes of club crackers, nearly all of which empty by the tenth day. A meager supply can only amount to a slow death, but Fanboy has tried his best to remain optimistic in hopes of eliciting a positive response from Yo. Half the battle is mental, after all. What makes him happy is the baby, so naturally, he believes it's universal. He's even thought up a small list of names and eagerly invites his partner to brainstorm.

Despite his best efforts, Yo's mood continues to slide. She needn't get attached so quickly to her child, less she invokes a more profound agony. Disappointed, Fanboy continues to think up names alone. It's a good distraction from his stomach's emptiness anyway. 

_Andrew…_

_Carson…_

_Liam…_

_Lance IV…_

_Yoko II…_

  
He regretfully kneads his growling stomach. Neither he nor Yo recalls that the human body can survive up to three weeks before the effects of starvation kill it, but Yo's sure they have a rapidly approaching deadline. A week or two at most, she thinks.

Regarding Boog's perpetual absence, Fanboy's doubts begin to fade. He wants to believe that the man wouldn't have hit the road after ten years of cementing his ownership, but when the second week comes 'round the bend, his defense erodes, and he's left helplessly confused.

Unsurprisingly, Yo spits on Boog's memory, furious that he chose so near the baby's birth to omit. Wasn't his objective to expand his "family," or more realistically, to lord over yet another unfortunate soul? Why run away? Perhaps Boog is so afraid to lose control that he caves to the odds instead of taking a chance and helping her give birth. Fanboy throws his two cents in: maybe Boog HAS been caught and is being interrogated, or perhaps he has been close to being caught and has decided to book it before the cops can cuff him. Yo scoffs.

Fanboy takes a sip from his last water bottle and strokes Yo's greasy head. After years of planning and failing to escape, it makes him sick with guilt to think that it could all be for naught. Despite his utter hatred for Boog, he'd prefer the man return because even after all this misery, his soul is fluttering for life to go on. He truly doesn't understand why Boog's leaving them like this. Leaving Yo, a vulnerable young woman carrying a child. Then again, Boog has had no trouble torturing them as children… Fanboy squeezes the water bottle in his pale, spidery fingers as his blood begins to boil. Boog is and ever shall be evil, a pathetic monster. That goes without saying, but how can Yo say that there really isn't hope left?

Absentmindedly, Yo nods and bites at Fanboy's bony shoulder. Her serenity scares him, but he performs mental gymnastics to convince himself otherwise.

As he rests his hand against her oily cheek, he realizes that they may never experience the comforting warmth of a bath ever again. Yo pauses mid-lick. The thought of dying cloaked in cold, sweaty grime makes him itch, but Yo is surprisingly unbothered by it. She's grown so comfortable with the idea of passing that she hasn't shed a tear over how it may go.

Yo nips him again, softer this time. It's a habit she's picked up: biting and licking at flesh when she's content, sometimes breaking the surface when she's on edge and licking the blood that spills. Fanboy's rather charmed by Yo's primitive gestures and has adopted rather strange habits himself: grasping, pouncing, pinning, and other displays of dominance that sends rushes of adrenaline through his veins to counterbalance the pain.

Yo hardly responds to his strange actions. She has become a mere shell of her former self. No more is that young, prank-happy girl. This suicidal woman wants it to end, but when Fanboy gazes tenderly at her middle, she feels selfish and wonders how he'll fare at the moment of her death. It's no mystery that he'll be devastated. To be trapped with her lifeless body, the baby's cooling form, Fanboy would die sooner of a broken heart. Yo shudders, her callus imagination picturing the young man wailing in agony, cradling his cold baby in desperation to wake it up in his last moments of life before perishing broken and alone.

For these two lonely, shackled souls to die in tandem in the same spot they woke up ten years before…that will be a fitting sendoff, she reflects. If only they're lucky, Boog will have no part of it… Three dead bodies locked away to crumble to dust, never to be found. Abandoned. Forgotten. Erased from existence and the memories of those who used to know them.

Yo shoves those tainted thoughts away before sinking her fangs into the pale flesh of Fanboy's shoulder. Listening intently to his labored breathing, she kisses the broad bitemark that she left behind and licks up the last specks of blood. Inside, her heart calms.

Reeling from the surprise bite, Fanboy finds her hand and grips it tightly. He's somewhat aware of Yo's darkening mindset but has such a difficult time coping that he's resorted to denial: 

_Yo's fine. She's great. Heck, she'll be even happier when she meets our baby. She's so sweet. So kind. She loves our baby._

His broken mind works overtime to compensate, something Yo notices but neglects to try to improve. She swallows the lump in her bruised throat. No need for that. She needn't fear her absent capacity, nor her imminent death. A little self-assurance will do nicely. Once they all die, it'll be over. No more suffering. No more pain. No more fuss. Before long, they will live together in a white flower field: Fanboy, herself, and their son or daughter, peacefully nestled in a warm heavenly glow, gifted with eternal happiness, full bellies, freedom, and sanctuary. Yo traces a hand over her scarred collarbone. Heaven is blemish-free: perfect skin, teeth, eyes… Maybe they'll be nude, perhaps they will be adorned in beautiful silk robes. Perhaps they won't even take human-like forms. Maybe they'll billow around as spherical orbs of light. Perhaps they'll take on the forms of their younger selves, to relish in a time before Boog squandered their innocence. Yo allows herself a tender smile, picturing three angels snuggling blissfully in the everlasting warmth.

Rubbing his shoulders, Fanboy risks the stabbing pain in his leg to make himself comfortable. He hisses and narrows his eyes at the darkness, the shackled limb burning like fire as he inches it away from Yo. Because of the chain's restrictive length, Fanboy's body hasn't been able to exercise and subsequently begins to shut down. Slow to heal, the injury renders him nearly immobile anyway. Boog didn't even need to chain him, he thinks exasperatedly. At least with Yo's help, he can reach the commode to relieve himself, but even that trip is agony. Unceasingly exhausted, unable to converse with Yo as often (in what could be their last chances to talk, she worries), and overwhelmingly stressed, he's going through the worst pain of his life.

He remains optimistic, but he's beginning to understand why Yo was so worried about the physical altercations between him and Boog. She'd warned him that the man would snap, that things would only get worse, but he'd kept it up like an idiot instead of playing it safe. Fanboy flinches, wondering if his actions directly played a part in Boog's vacating. The thought feels like a punch to the gut, and all of a sudden, he begins to think... If that is indeed the case, he's basically killed them all. Fanboy feels like he's going to puke, his stomach churning with guilt. He was only trying to help!

Regardless of her new, stoic personality, Yo's heart still breaks when she watches Fanboy's conniptions. He's shaking, and if there were light, she'd be able to see how dull and glassy his once bright emerald eye has become, how pale his skin has gotten, how weak and brittle his body is. That beautiful emerald iris confined to a dark world, a tortured history, hysterically shedding tears day after day has seen no affection, no love, no nothing, except Yo for a decade.

All she can do is cradle the poor young man while he wails for his best friend, becoming more and more unhinged until he's full-on sobbing. Over and over, he begs her to tell him things will be okay, that they'll be rescued, that they'll see all their friends and family again, that they'll get jobs and buy a nice house and--

Without warning, Yo releases her comforting hold and turns her back. As much as she wants to console Fanboy, she's unequipped to handle such imprudent wishes any longer. It's her weakness: hearing things that are just too good to be true. At least, delusional is what Yo believes Fanboy is when in reality, she's in no better shape.

In peak desperation, Fanboy begins to pray. Please! If she thinks there's a chance, any at all, then _please tell him--!_

STOP.

Shocked and choking on his own salvia, Fanboy stares into the dark as Yo gives her thunderous command.

STOP.

He releases her, heaving as she rolls up into a ball under the blankets instead of explaining. Left alone and put out by his love's cold behavior, Fanboy and his demons battle each other for his sanity. Even after all this time with no glimpse of escape, Fanboy has faith they'll be free, but the drop in Yo's spirit and his own weakening resolve is making him question whether to give up. His denial, ironically, is what's preserving his mental state.

Just when all hope seems lost, there's a disturbance. Fanboy sees a round orange shape in the dark, its pudgy face blurry in wavering memory. Fanboy smiles a little through his tears and reaches out a hand to swipe at the air.

These are seldom visits; after the first encounter during year two, Yo became super worried and forbade him to talk to this apparition. Since then, Fanboy has rarely seen glimpses of his sidekick, maybe three or four times.

He hears its voice, airy and soft as it speaks.

Fanboy nods jerkily, his brain clicking. He can't remember the sound of Chum Chum's voice...nor the color of his eyes...his face... The lack of material makes him feel sick all over again and would have crushed the last bit of hope in his heart, but--

Chum Chum's innocent, gentle aura washes over him like a calm wave. It's a reminder, the embodiment of hope his desperate brain provides. Fanboy takes a shuddering breath and nods again, bursting into a fresh round of tears. Naturally, he declares his love for the apparition, which smiles before fading into the darkness. This is the worst part of the visits...absence feels like a stab to the chest. It wouldn't be so bad if the visits were frequent, but this—

It's too much. Everything is too much. The pressure to be optimistic, the responsibility to take care of Yo and his unborn child, imminent death, denial… Fanboy cracks a deranged smile, stares at nothing, and drives his fist into the concrete. It hurts, but he'd rather this than for the insufferable pain in his heart. It sends a ripple of calm to his chest as he shudders. Repeatedly, he smashes his knuckles into the floor, bloodying them in a hysterical fit to smother his mental anguish.

Yo snatches Fanboy's wrist, the warm touch snapping him back into reality. He stares where her arm protrudes from the blanket and then at his hand, which throbs with pain. His brain clicks once more, causing him to twitch and invoking Yo to squeeze his wrist.

The road to calm is eventual. A few hours later, Fanboy resigns in a tired heap, his cries having quieted to soft whimpers. His heart still pounds, and his body is drenched in sweat, but he's gathering his bearings. Between him and the demons, he's won the battle for now.

Brushing his tangled bangs aside, Yo asks if he's feeling better. 

Fanboy presses back against the wall, the cold concrete sending shivers down his spine. He hates to lie, but he doesn't want to worry her even more. He supplies a gentle yes, knowing Yo means well despite her standoffish mood.

Satisfied with the answer, the young woman guides him back beneath the comforter. She's used to Fanboy self-harming. The easiest way to stop it from happening is to physically restrain him, which is incredibly easy thanks to his weakened state. Once sheltered, Fanboy nuzzles the top of her head, laces his bloody fingers with hers, and offers a quiet apology. Yo presses a finger to his lips, silencing him. 

She says this every time. It's not his fault. Never has been.

Fanboy kisses her forehead, sneaking in a lick or two to her temple as she laps up the blood on his knuckles. He'll do anything to make her happy, even if that means going mad. 

Yo softens her grip as he asks if she wants to talk about it. Her answer is no; she wants to push those bad thoughts and those hopeful dreams as far down as possible. Fanboy opens his mouth, ready to argue, but ultimately concedes and apologizes again. Yo bites his nape in a firm order of contention, akin to an alpha wolf telling her beta to submit. Fanboy freezes--she clearly does NOT want to hear that anymore--and decides to stop talking entirely. 

\---

Fanboy grows rather passive after that, but keeping his thoughts, worries, and hopes to himself proves a dangerous idea. His conditions never improve for the better. He cries more often, just quietly, so he thinks she can't hear, and without an outlet, the feelings continue to build in his heart until he can take it no more. 

After a day or two of dead silence, even Yo recognizes that she could better handle this situation. Following a meager meal of club crackers and water, it's time to make amends. Clearing her throat, she tucks her head into the back of his nape, kisses the healing wound, and asks if he's okay.

Fanboy is silent for the longest time. Yo waits. She feels the soft thrum of energy beneath his skin and gently pets his torso. 

In all honestly, Fanboy doesn't know if he can keep doing this. He reaches up and touches the fuzzies growing on his face. They appeared a year or two ago. A year…

He's...

Yo feels his body grown tense, and the area beneath her fingertips tightens. She holds her breath, steadying her movements as she waits for an answer. Except for very rare occasions, Fanboy is a vocal fellow, always speaking his mind, always letting her know exactly what he thought of things, _always_. 

Fanboy pulls away from her gentle hold, subsequently hissing as his leg is disturbed. That last ripple of pain invokes a tsunami of bottled emotions to be released in an absolute tirade. 

What does she think? Does she think he's okay? How in the world can she ask if he's doing okay if SHE won't answer him the same question? How can she think he's doing okay after making sure he won't believe there's a sliver of hope left for them? How, when she no longer supports him? He supports HER! Why can't she do the same? Heck, she can _pretend_ to be optimistic if she wants, just something other than this dead lump-on-a-log.

Yo sits stunned. Fanboy isn't raising his voice, but he is _fuming_.

He goes on: stop saying that they're going to die! They don't know what the future holds! They could get rescued, or at the very least, Boog could come back! Yes, Boog's a monster, but he is the only person keeping them alive! For her to wish that he'll never come back--th-that's crazy! Think of the baby! Think about him! Think about herself! What about all their friends that are waiting for their return?

Fanboy wraps his arms around himself like a shield, his chest heaving with anger, his working eye glittering with unshed tears. Then, something strange happens. Like air escaping a balloon, Fanboy's body releases all tension and deflates. He looks to be in a daze, sitting there in silence as he stares off into another world. Cautious, Yo sits still and waits. 

What is wrong with him, he whispers, more to himself than Yo, who swallows thickly. What is WRONG with him?! He doesn't want to feel s-so horrible. Is he becoming like Boog: a loud, aggressive evil man?! He doesn't want to be a bad guy! He just wants... He wants...

Fanboy makes a futile attempt to hold in his sobs, clutching his face and scratching at it with his sharp fingernails. The next thing he experiences is Yo's feeble arms gently pulling him into her lap, his head leaning against her soft chest, her chin resting on the top of his flat head. He bows, shivering, and Yo soothingly strokes his long locks. Fanboy wants to struggle, to escape her hold, but despite everything, he wants it. With a small kiss to his temple, Yo quietly asks him what he wants. 

Fanboy grapples for words. Suddenly, his heart explodes in the most horrible feeling as he cries out to the cruel, unforgiving world. 

_Home_. He wants to go _home_. Everything he loved, everything he wanted to be, it was all ripped away by that monster! His hopes, his dreams, everything he owned, everything he strived for.

Yo smiles as he cries into her chest. It's been a while since Fanboy has broken down like this. He's been so sturdy, so strong for her and their unborn baby. She knows, she tells him. She knows he wants that more than anything else in the world, and she would give him anything, even her own life, for him to be free again. He deserves so much better than this. He isn't like Boog, a maggot worth less than pig spit. He is a wonderful man, remarkably strong and--she murmurs--nothing short of heroic. Fanboy feels his heart swell.

After a dormant interval, Yo admits that she's tormented by cancerous anguish every second of every day. Every time she wakes, she wishes she were back asleep, or to cement her fate...Yo gulps, clutching at her partner... _dead_. 

The disclosure sends a shiver down Fanboy's spine. She's in worse shape than he thought.

Fanboy, she murmurs lovingly. He is the only reason she is alive. If not for him, she would have ended it all a long time ago. Whenever she's close to falling off the edge, he's there to pull her back from the brink. Her rock, her rope, her light, Fanboy, is her guardian angel.

Fanboy trembles in her grip, his simple mind unable to grasp the concept of suicidal idealization. To him, wanting to die doesn't register. Why want to die when there's a world out there waiting for them? Even if it may be out of reach, there's still a burning passion within to find it. He supposes that's another difference between him and Boog. Captor and captive. Death and life. Pain and peace.

Yo squeezes him tight. She means nothing to Boog and, likewise, Boog means nothing to her, but Fanboy means the _world_ to Yo. The shame that'd built up in Fanboy's gut cowers to Yo's doctrine, her. His stance relaxes and he sinks into her grip. Yo smiles victoriously and strokes his back.

She cannot save them, and despite how heroic Fanboy is, it's no secret that he can't save them from this either, but he doesn't… There are only so many times she can urge Fanboy to understand that freedom is outside their jurisdiction. She waits for an answer, but her partner lays silent against her. After a while, she decides that they've gone over enough for now. With that said, she settles in for a nap, nuzzling her love before falling asleep. 

Left awake, Fanboy combats himself, but before his mind can spiral to total despair, the small light from within suggests making the most of these last few days. If it really is all his fault--no. Fanboy shakes his head. He and Yo are accountability buddies, assuring each other's innocence in the matter. None of this is or ever was their fault. Fanboy smiles slightly, trying to convince himself of that, but a sliver of stubborn guilt remains.

Well, guilty or not, Fanboy swears that he will make the most of what he has. He will never give in, never lose hope, because if they die, they'll all go to Heaven together anyway. He shivers giddily at the notion, imagining himself, Yo, and their child each adorned with a pair of wings, chasing each other among the white, fluffy clouds, cradled by warm light and golden flowers, promised that their loved ones will join them one day in paradise. It's a beautiful sentiment, and though Fanboy's imagination is a bit distorted (he hasn't seen flowers, clouds, or the sky in years), his fantasy stems from the heart.

...

Yo keeps him warm with her body, his own nothing but skin and bones by now. She faintly remembers Fanboy as a child shivering in the cold, lamenting and crying because he could never stay warm on his own. Poor little thing... The beatings never helped. She can't see the damage, but she can feel every rib, every protruding joint in his body when she cuddles with him. Running her fingers over his chest, she can feel the chill in his rattling bones, the thick scars zigzagging across his flesh. Yo strokes his greasy hair with one hand and gently rubs his stick-thin arms with the other to get some warmth back into them. 

Despite Fanboy's insistence, Yo frets he won't survive long enough to meet their child. He's little more than a living skeleton, on the cusp of leaving this room without her--a fate she cannot bear to consider surviving. The physical pain is bad enough, but to lose Fanboy will snuff out whatever light remains within her. She's unsure if even her child could pull her back. She has nightmares... holding a dying infant in her arms while the father lies dead beside them. The only solace upon waking is Fanboy's soft snores, proof he hasn't abandoned her. 

Fanboy's stomach rumbles, and Yo holds him tight, blinking back tears as she whispers how much she loves him. Fanboy somehow finds the strength to roll his head over and press his forehead against hers. He's smiling despite their draining reserves, and how he can keep a chipper attitude is beyond Yo, but the answer is simple for Fanboy. 

Their child, the little beating heart inside Yo, is keeping Fanboy alive. When nothing else helps, his unborn baby fills him with hope. He loves to feel their little one kick; it warms his heart and eases his manic thoughts. Such innocence... it's something he hasn't felt in a long time.

He often reminisces about all the activities he wants to do with his son or daughter, sighing dreamily with a big goofy smile. Ski trips, soccer, tag, checkers, reading stories, drawing... He wants to do it all. Every time he brings it up, Yo can feel the weak pulse of energy beneath his skin and the pace of his heart quickening with excitement. Whenever she gently reminds him to be realistic, Fanboy waves her away.

Imagine, he explains excitedly. Imagine gathering around a roaring fire, a plate of smores among them. Just him, her, their child, Chum Chum, Lupe...maybe even Lensy or…what was the braces kid's name again? He shrugs and goes on without trouble. One day, they will visit Nuclear Park to feed the seagulls and other radioactive creatures. They'll stroll down the grassy path, hand in hand, swinging their child, who'll squeal with laughter. They'll feel the wind in their hair and the sun on their faces, smell the oak and hear the soft rush of atomic rivers, and finally be at peace.

He thinks for a moment, a wan smile stretching across his hollow face. They'll have picnics in the park, bring baskets stuffed to the gills with meats, fruits, veggies, and special desserts, because they're going to make certain their child never goes hungry. In a nice quaint house, they'll teach their son or daughter all the animals, foods, and plants' names, recite epic tales of fighting evil. In the backyard, Fanboy will lay out on the blanket beneath the sun, embracing its warmth while Yo shows their child how to make meals in the kitchen, how to read in the living room, and solve math problems. She'll give all her love to her baby. Then, she'll relax in the shade while he shows his child how to play games, how to speak respectfully, how to pray and dance and swim…

Some days will be easier than others. Their child will throw tantrums, act like a smart-aleck, make messes, be mischievous, if he or she is anything like their mother--Fanboy cracks up and Yo rolls her eyes--Sure, their child will fall, get hurt, play rough, may even get into fights, but they will be there to set things straight, to guide him or her in the right direction.

School days, potential future siblings, birthdays, graduations, weddings, grandkids—Fanboy is effectively escaping reality by divulging into these beautiful imaginings.

Yo closes her eyes as they smart with tears. It's torture listening to these visceral ends that are too good to be true. More than that, they sound like heaven. Forget wings and halos. Heaven is freedom, a good meal, a book, light… She should stop Fanboy from thinking like this, all delusional and hopeful, but it's like teaching a tree not to grow. Well, Fanboy may be unable to conceive how inescapable their situation is, but at least _she's_ grounded in reality!

Yo stares at nothing, bites her bottom lip, and drifts off into the fantasies brought to life by words alone.

...

It starts small: just a cramp, hardly noticeable as Yo slumbers away in Fanboy's arms. She's had them before, random tensing of the muscles that she's soon adapted to, but then, she's awakened by a distinctive _pop_ in her gut, like someone's poked an internal water balloon with a pin. She hasn't a moment to process the odd sensation before a gush of liquid exits her body. Momentarily embarrassed, she shifts her legs, thinking she has wet herself, then yelps as a sharp pain stabs her lower back. 

Fanboy wakes, confusion giving way to anxiety when Yo fills him in. Sucking in an excited breath, he sits her up and feels around her swollen belly. Yo flinches. The prodding isn't painful, but the aching in her back is awful. 

Feeling the damp comforter, Fanboy feels a miracle burst of energy in his body. Realizing that this might be it, he clutches Yo's cheeks and kisses them excitedly. The baby is coming!

Yo tensely smiles. Although she too is eager to meet her little one, she's less than enthusiastic about the process to come, and distantly aware that her parts will stretch to allow passage. After a spell, Fanboy lays her to rest on her back and folds a pillow behind her head, vaguely recalling that this process will be long and uncomfortable.

Two hours later, Yo's state worsens. Begging for help, she clutches Fanboy like a vice, but there's little he can do. Fanboy's terrified his ignorance could sabotage everything. What if she has a problem only someone else can help with and he's unable to? Unaware of how pregnancy occurs outside of prayer and marriage and sans medical supervision, he has no choice but to adhere to Yo's limited knowledge of childbirth. 

Three hours after the first contractions begin, Yo begins to wail. An internal nuclear bomb detonated and her outsides are no better: pale skin several shades lighter and quite hot to the touch. A hospital would have provided pain medication, but that's not a possibility worth considering at this point. 

Wiping Yo's forehead clean of sweat, Fanboy privately yearns for the process to speed up. It's no use sitting helpless while Yo is sweating bullets and biting her first to hold back screams. She's terrified, having underestimated the sheer agony this birth would bring, her initial calculation paling to the real pain.

Light-headed, Yo tries to steady her breathing pattern, the churning in her gut like an unhinged eggbeater. It's impossible to ignore, and when she rubs her stomach in a desperate attempt to quell the pain, there's little relief. 

As if to spite them, the temperature continues to plummet, and the generator operates at warp speed, grunting, groaning, and rattling its song to synchronize Yo's wails of torment. At hour six, her throat is shredded, and she's clammy with the realization that it's only going to get worse. With as much dignity as she can corral, Yo lays on her side and succumbs to the ache. She moans through her harshly gritted teeth, her dirty fingernails tearing at the comforter. The area between her spread legs feels like fire as the convulsions mercilessly persist. 

She resembles a beetle on its back trying to flip over, Fanboy thinks, dazed, but of course, he keeps that note to himself. He's officially appointed the "birthing coach," a generous term. He's exhausted but would rather succumb to death than fall asleep now. Besides, he can't pass out even if he wanted to, not with her screams. Instead, he consoles her as best he can, ignoring his own panic in response to the loud noises.

At hour seven, Yo claws at her abdomen in a fit of panicked desperation, and Fanboy weakly restrains her by pinning her straining arms to her sides. Hysterical, she curses Boog at the top of her lungs, kicking her legs and arching her back. Her hatred for him is so intense that it almost scares Fanboy, despite holding the same contempt for that monster. Nevertheless, hysteria isn't helpful, so he tries to calm her down, granting her the last few water sips from the bottle and licking away her tears. 

A few hours later, Yo breaks down, crying over and over again that she can't do it, that she's going to die. Fanboy won't hear it. He carefully clutches her and whispers words of encouragement. She CAN do this. Only a girl as strong as she can. Through all trials and tribulations, she's not going to let something as natural as birth, no matter how painful, beat her. Fanboy repeats these, going as far as promising her she can name their baby anything she likes if it's a girl. Yo quite fancies that condition, so she grits her teeth and pushes forward.

For a little while, all is going well. Then Yo's eyes glaze over, and she abruptly faints. Fanboy panics, afraid that she has dropped dead. Not a moment later, he's roughly shaking her shoulders and shouting her name. She's unresponsive, flopping limply in his grip. This is no prank. Fanboy whimpers and rubs some warmth into her cold, clay-like shoulders as her body convulses. His mind has gone haywire, unable to bear the thought of losing her. 

Suddenly, she's awake, still groaning and crying but at a quieter volume. A wave of relief floods Fanboy's system, and he lets out a hoarse cry before grabbing and holding her close. Dazed, Yo takes a moment to regain her senses and carefully wraps her arms around his lanky form. She isn't quite sure what has happened, only that the pain has lessened somewhat. Sore and exhausted, she sags her weight into his anorexic-thin arms.

Before Fanboy can welcome her back, a tiny cry materializes between them. It's small and soft, like a kitten's mewl, breaking through the generator's hum and warbled cries from the two captives. 

Fanboy's heart jumps. He pulls back from Yo, holding onto her elbows as he stares into the dark. At first, he doesn't want to believe it, but then the little cry grows louder in volume, invoking a burst of excitement from the young man. Yo sighs, relieved beyond words to know in her gut that it's over, the joy of her baby's arrival budding with time. 

Fanboy releases Yo completely and feels between her legs. Instead of empty air, he discovers not one but _two_ little infants curled up in damp.

Two?

Two?!

TWO!!!

When it clicks, he gasps and squeals with excitement. The newborns wail in response. 

_They're_ here! Fanboy just about bounces with happiness as he feels two pairs of arms, hands, and feet. He's finally a dad! He has _kids_! He--Yo's a mama! 

Dizzy with excitement, Fanboy lowers his head to his firstborn and presses his lips to the top of his slimy head, then does the same to his second born. He doesn't pick them up right away, reluctant to handle beings so delicate, but cups his palms around them for warmth. Exhausted, terrified, overwhelmed, but so very much in love with the tiny humans wriggling and wailing around in his palms, a part of Fanboy can't believe they are actually his, while the other part of him feels a precious familiarity. These are his _children._

After severing the umbilical cords with his gnawed-down chicken bone, Fanboy uses a corner of the blanket to wipe away the babies' slime until they're somewhat dry. The firstborn is a boy, a tiny little thing with a powerful voice. The other child is a little girl with a stocky build and quiet whimper. She clutches her brother, the only thing she knows, having spent nine months beside him. 

Yo closes her eyes, steadying her breathing as the noises to her left culminate. She asks, as quietly as a mouse, if the baby's alright.

Fanboy hovers his body over them to provide shelter before urging Yo to feel for herself.

Yo barely manages to lift her head, exhausted. Her pelvis feels crushed, and her throat is hoarse, but she summons the strength to reach out and touch the babies resting below Fanboy's body.

So small, she realizes, her heart swelling. They're no bigger than her hands, and she reckons they're runty due to her poor eating schedule. Still, what lovely-- Wait. She feels again and asks aloud: twins?

Fanboy confirms her question with a gleeful chuckle, his heart swelling with pride as Yo rests a hand over their son's head and strokes her thumb along the sharp edge of his skull. With a small huff, she jokes that HE was why the birth was so painful. Fanboy flinches, feeling momentary guilt for passing his skull's shape to his son, but Yo just smiles and strokes his greasy locks, brushing against the sharp flat of his head that matches their son's. 

Out of nowhere, her face contorts into a grimace, and something else slides out of her. Not another child, no, it's a bloody mass of…something. She groans. The afterbirth. Fanboy wrinkles his nose and carefully sets the mass as far away as he can. Okay, NOW Yo's legs are numb.

After all this fuss comes whines for attention, so she promptly tucks both babies against her chest, feeling pangs of love and sadness. She pats her daughter's fuzzy round head, mutely craving for more time to see their personalities blossom day by day, to watch them grow and learn to speak. Knowing that the children will die shortly is unnerving.

Fanboy's sentiments are far more light-hearted. As he wiggles closer to his new family, he remarks that the kids must be miniature versions of themselves. Heck, they probably look just like them! He wishes he could see what color their hair and eyes are, but seeing with his hands will suffice for now. Yo murmurs absentmindedly in agreement, tracing her daughter's chubby face and pudgy nose that matches her own.

Itching to bond, Fanboy gently tries to lift his son from Yo, but she stops him by seizing his wrist. A bit baffled, the young man pauses, and an argument breaks out between them, both new and old.

Fanboy means well, Yo debates, but he is reckless, a little too rough. He can't hold the children until he recognizes their fragility. He can't. Not now. She doesn't want them to die any sooner than they need to.

Hurt, Fanboy reluctantly retreats. He trusts the new mama to make the right decisions, and if that means waiting just a little while longer to love on his children, then so be it. He doesn't want to stress her out, not after the hours of pain she's endured. …At the same time, they're his babies… He loves them too… He wants to hold them… Wants to hold them before…

Yo blinks once, twice, then frees his wrist before pressing the babies up against her to nurse. She doesn't think hard; the maternal care comes naturally. Amidst the sadness, there's pride in her yet! Her dream to become a mommy has come true.

Curiously listening to the eager suckling, Fanboy supposes it should be obvious that THAT is how babies eat. However, it comes as a wonder (and a relief that his children are gaining any sustenance at all). Stomach rumbling, he wonders if HE could join in, but decides that's not in the best interest of his babies. He wouldn't dare to take anything from them. After waiting for a couple of minutes, Fanboy tries again to hold his son, but just like before, Yo refuses.

He'll only disturb them, she declines. Let them eat. 

Fanboy slumps with disappointment and relents. He knows he’s a little clumsy, but he'd never try to hurt his babies. Not on purpose, anyway. He clasps his hands together and pleads that he'll be super careful and promises he won't accidentally drop them, but Yo has made up her mind.

He isn't gentle enough, she explains. Maybe later she'll show him how.

Fanboy's upset, but instead of pointing out that he'd taken care of Chum Chum since they were tykes, he props himself up on his elbow and rests his arm across Yo's body. Despite her edge, the young woman smiles contentedly at the touch, and Fanboy presses further by gently wrapping his arms around her waist, sneaking gentle pats to his daughter's fuzzy head as she suckles between them. This will do. As their father, it's his job to protect them, keep them warm and loved. Yo suppresses a yawn and rests her forehead against his. For now, despite the pain, dehydration, and starvation plaguing the young adults, there's peace. Another chapter, despite its short duration, has begun.

Nice and full, the children pull away from their mother's breasts. After patting their backs to help them burp, Yo lays them out between herself and Fanboy. Together, they conserve body heat and cocoon their young. The worst of it behind her, the new mama is joyous. Fanboy kisses the woman's sweaty forehead, whispering how proud and honored he is to have children with her. She smiles despite the pain and blood trickling down her leg and ignores the odd scent that has filled the room. Moments later, she closes her eyes and passes out from exhaustion. After all that hard work, it's time to celebrate with a long nap.

\---

Yo wakes from the pain to discover Fanboy has inched the children toward him. She bites her lip, mightily nervous that the new, inexperienced father may be too rough. Fanboy, she knows, has kinda gone off the deep end. He's just so hopeful, radiant, and optimistic; it's a borderline delusion. No, it IS delusional. She knows he thinks they can survive this, live on as a family, despite the impossible conditions, so a gentle reminder is in order. Plus, he might hurt—be too rough with them.

Fanboy's mood doesn't somber. He just continues to coo at his children, a gentle plea to Yo to drop the issue. A moment later, he promises he won't pick them up.

Yo feels she should relax at that, but her emotions are a wreck. On the one hand, she cares for her children's safety, but on the other hand, that underlying fear, knowing that they will die in here anyway, quells the urge to WANT to care, to get attached to people she knows will perish in a day. With a small mumble, she rolls over and tries to hold back tears. She's so conflicted, it hurts.

Fanboy cocks his head and quietly gathers the infants, curling around them like an envelope instead of picking them up. Deep down inside, a part of him knows they're destined for death, but… A tiny hand latches around his finger, and the gesture makes him want to cry. He can't waste these precious moments. He never knew it was possible to feel this much love for someone, but it makes sense. Parents love their babies. He grasps the hand between his thumb and forefinger as gently as possible, curiously feeling around the tiny fingernails.

While he wonders in amazement at these miracles, Yo begins to sob. How long exactly will they be able to keep their children alive in this environment where she and Fanboy are barely hanging on? She doesn't think she can enjoy these precious moments, no matter how much she wants to, and worse yet, her thoughts are turning against her. 

_Why aren't you holding your babies?_

Yo squeezes her eyes shut and releases a guttural moan, feeling like the most selfish monster ever.

_You're not a very good mama…_

She wants to love on her babies, but how can she with what she knows?

_Stop acting like a victim._

Yo crumples into a cold lump of flesh, her blue eyes dulling to almost grey. Her own thoughts are killing her. The darkness edging at the corners of her mind near the center.

_So selfish…_

_You don't even love your babies!_

_Poor Fanboy._

_He deserves better than you._

A pained grin spreads over her blotchy face, her mind going haywire. She feels dead outside her own body as she eases into the cold. Fanboy does deserve better… Her babies deserve better…

_I'm a terrible mommy…_

Yo mumbles that aloud without thinking clearly, grabbing Fanboy's attention. He gently turns her over to face him, wiping the tears away from her cheeks and pressing their foreheads together in a chaste display of affection. 

_You're an amazing mama…_

Fanboy cups her cheeks in his hands and whispers it, again and again, wanting Yo to feel it, to remind her that she isn't alone, and he will always support her. The proofs are the two brand new lives whimpering between them, a perfect blend of him and her. Little miracles… Fanboy praises her for her hard work, for taking care of him when things looked bleak, for being his star.

_I love you._

_You're the best mama ever…_

Fanboy repeats that, firmly and confidentially, despite the absence of a mother in his own life. Something inside him is secure knowing her good intentions, her kind, broken soul, and kindred spirit. In time, Yo's sobs fade. Fanboy rocks gently back and forth, lulling her to calm. Through the last of her sniffles, she whispers that she doesn't want to die here, that she's terrified of her babies sharing their fate. For once, she leaves out their inevitable demise, only implying said fate as a prospect, and Fanboy gratefully kisses her.

They shouldn't be here, she whispers, but in a nursery with a soft cradle in a lovely warm house.

Fanboy nods against the top of her head, humming that old lullaby under his breath. He may be slow, but he understands how she feels. Their fates have become startlingly real: with the last of their water supply gone, it will only take a day or two for them to perish. These last few hours will be priceless, and what they choose to do with them will not only be the most important but the _last_ decisions they will ever make. Call him a dreamer, but they owe it to each other and their children to make their last moments together mean something. 

Realizing the babies have fallen asleep, Fanboy coos. Their shrill cries have settled along with their mother's, and now they are locked together and sleeping soundly. Yo stares dully at her babies, her chaotic mind working overtime to figure a way out of this. Fanboy presses his cheek against her forehead and hums that lullaby until they too fall under.

…

_So, what now? The club crackers have run out. The water is completely gone. Yo doesn't need to point this out to Fanboy; he already knows and is doing wonderfully blocking it out, focusing all his attention on his precious children. Propped up on one elbow and nuzzling his shivering boy, he doesn't even seem anxious about his rapidly approaching death. Well, neither is Yo, but only because she has accepted it wholeheartedly. He's terribly thirsty. She can tell by the way his voice cracks, by the way he constantly clears his throat. How he can keep a happy face is beyond her._

_She asks him, what now? Because there are times when a mother and father must consider their children's futures or lack thereof. Fanboy's smile falters. Aha, Yo realizes, a chink in his armor._

_Well, she asks again, what do they do now that they've got the room to themselves? Are they destined to outlive their children, or will their children lay helpless among their dead parents? Which is crueler?_

_Fanboy's gaze flickers up to her dark outline, mightily apprehensive. What does she mean by asking him this? Why?_

_Yo tries not to look in the direction of her children. She explains that it isn't fair to them that they should be left alone when she and Fanboy die. As adults, they must…intervene._

_Fanboy's heart leaps to his throat. He cannot bear to ask how, but Yo makes a suggestion anyway._

_"…"_

_This idea…is so vile…so utterly depraved that Fanboy isn't sure he hears correctly, so he asks her to repeat._

_"…"_

_Yo hurriedly explains why this is in the babies' best interest, but Fanboy refuses to listen to another word, bearing his teeth and clutching his children to his chest. He may be passive, but he will NEVER cave to this. Yo sucks in a breath, her heart crumbling all over again._

**_They are NOT murdering his children_ ** _\-- That's what he screams, startling her and the babies, who start to bawl in fear._

_Yo clutches Fanboy's rigid face in her hands, desperate for him to understand. What she's suggesting isn't murder, it's NOT. By not feeding the babies, they will die quickly. They won't suffer for long, and she refuses to hurt them herself._

_Fanboy's jaw hangs. He can't believe it. How--? How can withholding milk, their only food source, NOT be murder? His love, his angel, what this woman is suggesting, to Fanboy, is pure evil._

_WHY? He chokes it out, and Yo says it's because she loves them. This is sane, merciful!_

_Unable to cope, Fanboy yanks his head out of her hold and drags himself and his children away. Fear blooms in his churning gut, and he feels quite ill. The little babies, **his** babies, are clutching him because they know he's their father, they're; they're breathing—he won't allow this. Yo listens to his struggle, tears streaming down her face._

_No mother wants her children to die, she sobs, but no mother wants her children to suffer. This is the kindest way, the most painless way for their children to go._

_It's the sadness talking, not her—Fanboy thinks wildly, his broken mind unable to comprehend a rational response. No father wants to see his children die! Not a mercy, not anything! It's wrong! He doesn't want anyone to die, not sooner nor later. There must be a way for Yo and the children to last long enough to be rescued. They need food and water! There must be a way—AHA!_

_Without a second thought, Fanboy eagerly offers himself as sustenance. Ignoring the look of horror on Yo's face, he tries to explain. If he dies, she can eat him. Yo can kill him easily if she's actually capable of killing her own babies. Heck, he'll save her the trouble! Fanboy lifts his broken leg and slams it to the floor._

_Yo's jaw drops in tandem, shocked into silence by the awful thunk and clinking chains._

_The agonizing pain almost causes Fanboy to pass out, if not for the whimpering children in his arms. Carefully, he lays them out on a safe, clear area of the comforter. Then, he gathers the short length of the chain connecting his foot to the wall in his arms, too short to allow much movement but long enough for his demonstration. See? She won't even have to lift a finger._

_Yo freezes. What is he doing?_

_Fanboy bends his leg and wraps the chain twice around his feeble throat, swallowing against the tight grip and cringing at the individual links pinching his skin. It's clear now as to what he's planning. Yo leaps forward and wedges her fingers between the chains, keeping it from tightening any further._

_No. No, no, no, no, she whispers._

_Fanboy laughs brokenly at her dark silhouette, the sound brittle and wretched. Why not? Isn't this merciful? To not only free him from this suffering but to offer her and the children a better chance at survival? It's certainly better than killing the babies, a disgusting idea that benefits nobody. Let **him** die! Isn't that what she's expecting anyway? Why waste time? Why try? Why do anything?! Why?! WHY!? Take HIM, because if she kills the children, he will NEVER forgive her. NEVER love her again. _

_Things are spiraling out of control. Yo gapes, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she realizes the horrible mistake she has made. Fanboy thrusts his head back against the wall, smashing his skull against it. Yo yelps and places her hand on said wall to block him from doing it a second time._

_Fanboy's both sobbing and cackling, clearly having another mental breakdown. He tries again to bash his head, and when Yo's hand saves him from significant damage, he cracks his already injured knuckles against the concrete floor. The sound is awful, the cracking of delicate bones, the splattering of wet blood._

_She can't keep him from hurting himself, no matter how hard she tries._

_Yo, all but yanks the chain from around his neck and tackles him to the floor. Fanboy struggles, but she's bigger, heavier, and stronger, so she can keep him pinned despite her weakened state of mind. She can't break down now._

_Fanboy smiles up at her, the bite-marks on his throat that Yo left behind burning red._

_A tiny cry from behind makes her want to hide. Her son, her daughter… They're listening to this…It is frightening them. They don't deserve it... Mentally hysterical, Yo lets out a blood-curdling scream, her lungs billowing air to magnify her anguish. Just take them! Kill them already! There's nothing left to hope! NOTHING! She screams this to the ceiling, a horrifying pleading for God to strike them all down at once._

\---

Yo awakens with a strangled gasp, jolting upright and blinking into the dark. The cold hit her first, then the weakness of her joints. She can barely move.

Beside her, Fanboy's rubbing her back, comforting her in a worried tone. Between them, the children, sleeping soundly.

In shock, Yo gasps for air, pawing at Fanboy's face like an insane person. Th-…The babies! Yo grabs blindly for her children, almost injuring them as she wildly presses one of them to her chest. Sh-She won't hurt them, she gasps, her blue eyes blazing with madness as her stiff muscles protest. She would never hurt her babies! She—She—

Confused and afraid in his mother's arms, the son begins to wail. Yo cries out in a panic, pleading for a dumbfounded Fanboy to understand. She didn't mean it! She doesn't want them to die! Please! Don't self-harm! Don't—! Don't die! She won't eat him! She promises she won't eat him! PLEASE!

She's screaming, breaking down as one of the last reserves of sanity in her head breaks to pieces. Fanboy's afraid she may accidentally injure their son, so he takes her into her arms and carefully feels for his child, who's alright, if not a bit spooked. Yo shakes, sweat trickling down her forehead as she gasps into Fanboy's collarbone.

Please— Please— Please— She chants, and Fanboy relocates his son behind him along with his daughter. There's still a small part of him that's sane, that values the safety of those he loves.

Please— Please— Please— Don't let her hurt them— Please— Yo gasps as Fanboy sinks his claws into her arms, stares her dead in the eye.

He knows she won't hurt them. She won't kill them. If she does—Fanboy bears his teeth— _he will never forgive her._ He isn't kidding. She isn't the only one worth protecting now that they have children.

Now, _calm down_ …

Yo swallows another scream. It…It was just a nightmare… An awful, horrible nightmare. With a sharp inhale, she lies back down, her heart beating like crazy as tears trail down her face. She yanks at her locks. It's okay. It was just a nightmare. Nothing like that is going to happen.

Fanboy smiles tenderly and begins the process of dragging her back to a rational state of mind: he cuddles her, kisses her, whispers how much he loves her. It does take a good few hours for his love to return, and when she does, she's very quiet.

Time is warping. It couldn't have taken both a week and a minute to calm down, but that's what Yo feels. Her brain clicks, desperate for its owner to regain sustenance. Dazed, she nervously reaches for Fanboy's hand, which he takes.

They…

Fanboy's arms are sticks, the rest of him a bony mass of nothing. His lips are chapped, and his voice is raspy. Yo takes a breath, notices how thick her throat is. Judging by their states, she knows.

They're dying.

Fanboy agrees, resting his hand over her arm.

It won't be long now… Maybe a day…maybe an hour.

Despite how often Yo insists that she's accepted their fate, she can't help but shake her head in astonishment. That soon? She doesn't doubt it, but…that's far too short.

Fanboy kisses her bangs, his raspy voice small and resigned.

They're gonna die. Now that it's becoming a reality, he can entertain the notion of accepting that, slipping an arm beneath his son's head for support, but he's going to hold out for rescue until the moment he dies. Yo shuts her eyes, too exhausted to roll them. That's okay. It's all going to be okay. Maybe he wasn't ever meant to… Fanboy trails and suddenly laughs. He was never meant to be the hero, after all.

After all this time… That will bum Chum Chum out.

Yo smiles and strokes the top of her daughter's fuzzy head with her pointer finger. Even now, on death's doorstep, Fanboy is still able to laugh, and Yo can still smile. Perhaps acceptance isn't a weakness. After all, they'll be in Heaven soon. She's proud. She says that, but Fanboy can't hear.

Soon, Fanboy's mind is entirely open and empty. There is not a single ounce of resistance in him. He has finally, truly, surrendered his entire being from his control. What follows this total surrender of body, mind, and maybe even soul, is the strangest sense of peace that he has ever felt, as though Fanboy has given up every last little piece of himself, but somehow, other feelings soon came back to fill that void. By letting go, suddenly, Fanboy knows what he had to do…

He finally makes the decision, right then and there, to let himself die. He won’t fight anymore. Maybe with this surrender of his body and mind and choice, he’ll become a hero. Maybe this surrender will mean the question of what his afterlife destination will be eternally put to rest. Maybe, if Fanboy truly, truly, truly let's go, he will finally be granted the stairway to the heavenly kingdom.

His cause? Yo. His one true love and partner, having survived this torture by his side. His children, nameless pictures of innocence and true blends of him and her. Chum Chum, best friend and more, having been with Fanboy longer than anyone before the kidnapping. His family…

But even though Chum Chum is gone, he is still here. A soul never truly leaves the place it feels most tied to because, even after ten years of no Chum Chum, there are moments between the shadows of sanity and insanity that Fanboy is certain he can hear Chum Chum still whispering to him. Yo...It has been Yo who pulled him through each and every torment long enough for him to survive up until this point. It had been Yo who whispered to him in the cover of darkness, keeping him company when their tormentor did not visit their cell. It was both Chum Chum and Yo and all the beautiful memories Fanboy shared with them that allowed him to retain some level of who he used to be despite how degrading his tortures were.

Now, they were going to become Fanboy's cause, his reason for living and then dying, for enduring this Hell with total acceptance. Yo had carried him this far already, now he will carry Yo to the end. With Chum Chum's spirit at his side, Fanboy will face his fate with all the willful courageousness and hopeful resoluteness that a hero required. 

So, Fanboy will die for Chum Chum, Yo, and the babies. He can pretend that this surrender will redeem them all and set them free. He’ll pretend that this sacrifice will mend every lost bond and then Chum Chum will finally be able to see him again. Any past bad blood among them will be eased out until only love and forgiveness remain.

Then, together, they will leave this place and never look back, no matter what. Fanboy no longer lives for himself. He thinks towards the future that he will never see, praying that once he’s dead, nobody else will ever have to stand trapped in this place again. He thinks of Chum Chum, the boy he wants so desperately to be reunited with. He’s coming home very soon…

Fanboy asks the phantom voice to promise, tears pricking his bruised and bloody eyes, that he’ll be there for them.

 _Yes_.

Chum Chum's voice murmurs lovingly in return.

_I miss you._

Fanboy coughs through sore and chapped lips, less afraid because now, he finally has a cause.

There isn't much else to say; they've had the last ten years to give their goodbyes. Fanboy's voice, as well as the rest of him, is whispery-thin as he whispers a prayer. Yo can feel him slipping away as her eyes flutter close. He murmurs happily, eyes glazing. Beside him, his son wriggles unhappily, as if he can sense his father leaving him. Fanboy weakly touches the top of the baby's heading, wishing one last time that his children could meet their uncle.

_Will…wait…for ya…buddies…_

Fanboy stills.

\---

Soft white light brightens the little room.

Yo is too far gone to react. Fanboy's blank gaze witnesses the glow as it shines like the sun.

Angels…

"Yoko? Lance?”


End file.
